


Stay Close To Me

by Swiss_Blue_Topaz



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety, Asexual Katsuki Yuri, Asexual Katsuki Yuuri, Cuddling, Fluff and Angst, Gentleman Victor, Innocent Katsuki Yuri, Innocent and Sweet Yuri, Katsuki Yuuri in Russia, Longing, M/M, Ohta Park, Soulmate - Canon Divergence, Soulmate - Fragrance AU, Sweet Kisses, living in Russia, sex-repulsed asexual Yuri Katsuki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-02-18 10:41:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 36,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13098384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swiss_Blue_Topaz/pseuds/Swiss_Blue_Topaz
Summary: A person has a special fragrance that only their soulmate can smell. Yuri is scared to meet his soulmate, and Victor longs for it. Once they meet, they start to know each other while training to compete at the Grand Prix.Borrowed portion has been rewritten and updated to inspired. 7-22-2018





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Fragrance](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10447629) by [felicitatem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/felicitatem/pseuds/felicitatem). 



> Disclaimer: I do not own Yuri On Ice
> 
> Updates will be sporadic, sorry. I am in college, so please be patient.  
> This first chapter sets the story up, but there will be more dialogue later, I promise. Future chapters will be longer.
> 
> A note on the text: I have borrowed a portion of the first chapter from another person's story with minor changes. I asked permission, but I never got a response so I decided to use it anyway since they never finished their story. I use this with the utmost respect; I loved it so much that it inspired this fic of my own. The portion will be included in the end notes to avoid spoilers. Everything else is mine. The story I borrowed from is discontinued (hasn't updated for over a year). The author won't respond, but I have asked twice. There is no activity on her account. I know many people don't like that I borrowed since I never got the author's explicit permission, so I am trying to figure out how to write it myself without ruining it. That will take a while, but I'm trying.
> 
> Note 7-22-2018: I have rewritten the borrowed portion. It is clearly heavily inspired by the other author, and I would appreciate it if you would let me know if it is still too similar. Thank you for your patience, my readers!

“A soulmate is not one who is ‘made just for you’, despite the popular belief. It is a person whose soul is most compatible with yours, who will understand you deeply, the one with whom you would get along best romantically, or for some, platonically. This does not mean that you can never be compatible with someone else; many people have married someone who is not their soulmate. Roughly 40% of people do not meet their soulmate, though this statistic has continued to lessen dramatically over the years with modern transportation. People in most countries marry their soulmate when they find them, with little to no courting time. In fact, in most places throughout the world, it is mandatory to marry your soulmate if you find them. Everyone has only one soulmate.

“Every person has a specific fragrance that only your soulmate can smell; this is how soulmates know that they are indeed soulmates. The ability to smell another’s fragrance only happens after you have gone through puberty, and your own fragrance isn’t detectable until after you have gone through puberty. The scent is usually a magnificent one, beyond description in any language, though this has never stopped people from trying. The fragrance is said to give clues to your soulmate’s personality and character, thought little is known about this area as it is impossible to smell another’s soulmate for comparison and study.”

Everyone across the globe read something like this in their textbooks or was told by family, including a boy who lived in Hasetsu, Japan. Katsuki Yuri had always loved beauty, and his admiration for it went far beyond most people’s. He was one of those people who was deeply moved by it, collected it, memorized it, tried to create it, and most of all, treasured it. He was fascinated by the idea that someone’s fragrance could be so beautiful that it went beyond words. But that was the only reason Yuri wanted to meet his soulmate.

Yuri had a love-hate relationship with the idea of soulmates. He wanted to smell the indescribable fragrance, but as he grew-up, he came to hate the thought that he _had_ to be with someone, that a fragrance had control over his life. Yuri wanted to choose whom he married, and though marrying someone who was not your soulmate when you knew who was your soulmate was not _strictly_ illegal in Japan, it was a terrible social taboo. Whenever Yuri said that he wanted to fall in love naturally, be it with his soulmate or not, people tended to ridicule him or tell him that he was crazy. So he stopped saying it.

Yuri was an ice skater. He had been taking lessons since he was very little, and had been training professionally ever since he was able. He loved it, he loved it more than anything else: the chance to move gracefully and beautifully, to express emotions he often wouldn’t dare to express another way, to be proud of doing something well, to feel blissfully free, all accentuated by the cold, crisp air, not to mention the beautiful music and costumes. Yuri felt more at home on the ice than anywhere else.

His childhood friend, Yuko, had skated with him for years, though never professionally. It was she who first introduced him to his favourite skater. When he was twelve she invited him over to watch a replay of the Junior World Championships, and that was the first time Yuri saw Russia’s Victor Nikiforov skate; he won gold his first year with the highest score in history. Yuri was entranced, and he had followed Victor’s career ever since. Yuko and Yuri practiced Victor’s routines together, and Yuri started collecting posters to hang in his room. He started to talk about his favourite so much that his older sister Mari came to resent Victor’s existence for intruding on her peace.

Yuri didn’t have a crush though, no matter how much Yuko’s boyfriend teased him. Yuri admired him as a skater, and had some kind of affection for him that _wasn’t_ romantically inclined. Victor was stunning on the ice. He was _naturally_ talented and graceful, the kind you can’t get from practice but can only be gifted with. He was highly skilled as well, especially for his age (sixteen at the time of the Junior Worlds). And he never stopped surprising Yuri; there was always something new, beautiful, or unconventional from the legendary Russian skater.

Victor also picked beautiful music and choreographed his own routines that fit perfectly, and he was a master at expressing emotion. His costumes were always beautiful, never ostentatious or gaudy. On the ice and in interviews, Victor seemed like a pleasant and kind person. And to top it all off, Victor himself was beautiful. He was tall – well, average for Russia, tall for Japan – and slender. He had ice-blue eyes and distinct, platinum blond hair that was almost silver. Victor was an artist who was a work of art, and Yuri loved and admired him for it. He wanted to someday skate on the same ice as Victor Nikiforov.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The year Yuri turned seventeen his parents surprised him with tickets to the Grand Prix Figure Skating Final, taking place in Tokyo, Japan. Yuri had never been more excited. He was going to get to see Victor Nikiforov perform in person! It was the beginning of December when the Final started.

‘Amazing! Victor Nikiforov has broken his second world record this season! This is history folks!’ the commentator yelled.

The crowd was on their feet, yelling and cheering, and Yuri was one of them. He was so happy, so proud of the skater, he couldn’t sit still. His mother clapped politely next to him, smiling more at her son’s reaction than the skater’s accomplishment. Victor waved at his fans from the kiss and cry, a big smile lighting up his face. Even his coach was ecstatic, which all fans knew was rather rare.

‘Nikiforov is turning twenty-one at the end of this month, and to accomplish something like this at a young age is stunning and—’ the commentator talked on while the skaters prepared to accept their medals. The exhibition skate would be next, and by the time everyone walked out into the dark evening Yuri’s cheeks hurt from smiling.

‘Mom, that was fantastic! I loved it! Thank you so much!’ He threw his arms around his mom and she chuckled.

‘You’re welcome, dear,’ she said warmly. When they parted she walked over to a taxi driver to secure a ride to their hotel. They were all busy, so she had to wait, and Yuri, practically bouncing with elation, chattered on.

‘Did you see the guy who went second, his triple Lutz? I’ve never seen someone get so much height! And Victor did his quadruple flip! It’s his signature—’

And then it hit him, stunning Yuri into silence and stealing all other thoughts from his mind.

Roses. It was roses, but not a regular rose, no. It was a rose blooming at the height of spring, beautifully innocent and brimming with vitality. It was soft, and yet vibrant somehow, and calming. But it wasn’t just roses; it was also a forest, crisp and cold, where the fresh wind mixed with the evergreens and snow and mountains rose strong and majestic in the distance. The entire fragrance evoked an image of purity, indomitable power, and untamable beauty.

Yet there was more, the fragrance had so much more than Yuri could ever describe. It really was true: words did not exist to fully encompass the enchanting magnificence of a soulmate fragrance. Soulmate. His soulmate was here. Yuri wanted to meet whoever had such a magnificent fragrance. He started scanning the crowd, looking for someone as shocked as he.

‘Oh my _gosh_! It’s Victor Nikiforov!’ a girl shrieked. Every head turned towards where the girl was pointing. There stood Victor, illuminated by a streetlight and looking radiant. He was clad in a grey tracksuit, probably trying to sneak out to celebrate his victory, to the certain exasperation of his coach. His hood was up, but it did little to conceal his short, silvery hair and mesmerizing beauty. Yet Victor looked like he had been slapped, standing there utterly shell-shocked.

 _No,_ Yuri thought desperately. _It can’t be him._ He felt like someone was going to push him off a cliff. He tensed all over. His blood felt shaky. Nausea poured into his stomach and he shuddered hard from a sudden chill that wasn’t there. He turned his back to the skater.

Hiroko turned, ready to herd her son into a cab when she caught sight of his pale face, terror-struck eyes, and tight expression. He was panicking. Hiroko grasped Yuri by his shoulders and quickly maneuvered him into the cab; Yuri needed quiet, and he needed to be out of public. She climbed in after him and shut the door. The fragrance vanished.

And then Victor acted. He sprang to life, pushing people out of the way with uncharacteristic force as he fought to get to a clearing. He emerged in the spot that Yuri had just vacated, looking around excitedly and sniffing the air desperately. The taxi pulled away, and Yuri watched as the crowd swallowed Victor once more.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Yuri was terrified. Never in a million years did he seriously think that his soulmate would be the most famous figure skating legend of his time. Yuri didn’t _want_ him to be. The stress was unfathomable. Everyone, Yuri included, had been speculating about Victor’s soulmate. It would be someone beautiful, talented, and all around amazing. Yuri was none of these. Most people would be thrilled to have their idol as their soulmate, but not Yuri. He was always a little odd. But honestly, anxiety and a general rebellion against soulmates were not the main reasons Yuri was terrified, though they were most certainly big ones.

The main reason was this: as he matured, Yuri began to realize there was something that he didn’t want that everyone else did. It wouldn’t have bothered him too much, except the soulmate thing demanded you get married, and the thing came with marriage. Yuri realized after that night in Tokyo that if he met his soulmate, he would have to face something he wanted no part of. Yuri adamantly did not want sex. It was disgusting. He couldn’t imagine anything worse to do to a human being. And he knew full well that not only was it expected in marriage, but most people actually _wanted_ it, especially guys.

His mother didn’t ask about the panic attack; Yuri got them on occasion, and they often had no trigger. Yuri was relieved; he didn’t know what he would have said without lying. They made it home the next day, and though Yuri was subdued, he perked up again when he got to tell Yuko all about his trip, sans the soulmate thing of course. Yuko had already met her soulmate, who had been a rink mate of hers and Yuri’s growing up. Since they were so young when they caught each other’s fragrances, they didn’t get married right away. However, the wedding date was set for this summer. Yuri was happy for her; since she and Nishigori (the last name of her soulmate) had gotten to wait, they had had time to fall in love.

Yuri was going to university in America this coming year. He was going to Detroit, Michigan and would study under a professional coach while he was there. It was his main reason for moving. He planned to get his degree and work to qualify for the Grand Prix of Figure Skating. His coach’s name was Celestino Cialdini.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Soon after the Grand Prix Final in Tokyo, Victor told the press in an interview that he had caught his soulmate’s fragrance. They had been drilling him about being caught sneaking out by his fans and his odd behavior that night, and ended up with a better story than they had hoped for. Who was it? Victor didn’t know. Did you see them? Victor hadn’t. What did the person smell like? That is private. Do you know where they live? No, he did not. Why didn’t you meet? The fragrance suddenly disappeared. Who wouldn’t want to meet their soulmate? Victor didn’t know that either.

It wasn’t much information, but fans and magazines went rabid with it anyway. Many fans claimed to be his soulmate, but Victor had been famous long enough not to believe everything his fans said. Articles were written on the Cinderella story Victor was experiencing. Magazines and fans alike speculated on why a soulmate would run. Nervousness? Anosmia? Already married? Those were the nice ones.

Yuri found this out via Yuko, who had told him squealing that Victor had found his soulmate – after a fashion. Yuri had later watched the video on his own. He felt a little bad for Victor; he clearly wanted to meet his soulmate. Yuri was grateful to learn that he hadn’t seen him, and he didn’t regret running. Soon, however, he was in Detroit, and thoughts of his soulmate faded into the background.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Victor had been feeling lonely for years. When he was at home alone it would fully sink in: he had no one to really talk to, not about deep things, not about personal things. Sometimes even when he was skating he would feel sad thinking that when practice was over he would have to go home to an empty apartment, aside from his dog; he loved his dog, and was grateful for her, but it wasn’t the same. He had companions, but not friends, and while Yakov was a father-figure, having been with Victor many hours a day from the time he was seven, they didn’t have a _deep_ relationship, no matter how strong. Victor was missing the deep, intimate, emotional connection with another human being, had been for years, and he craved it.

At twenty-one years-old, Victor hadn’t given his soulmate much thought. In fact, reporters were the ones who first got him thinking about his soulmate; there was much speculation on his soulmate, but all Victor could honestly say was he hoped they loved skating. He started to think of what he hoped his soulmate was like, but he got along with so many different types of people he wasn’t sure he could pick a type. He got along with Georgi, who was dramatic but insightful; he got along with Yakov, who was grouchy but secretly cared; he got along with Sergei, who was quiet but funny once he got comfortable. He also got along with Christophe, a charismatic rival from Switzerland, though Chris was far too sexual for Victor’s taste, and somehow he knew his soulmate wouldn’t be like Chris. But other than that, he didn’t give it much thought; skating took up most of his time. Until that night.

As soon as the fragrance hit his nose, he stood transfixed. By the time he moved he had already missed his soulmate. The crowds had surrounded him, and security had to come get him out. Victor realized something that night, though. He realized that someone out there could give him the connection he was missing. Suddenly, his soulmate was at the forefront of his thoughts, and he wondered why they left. Were they nervous? That was possible; Victor had heard stories of soulmates who bolted when they first caught the fragrance, but they always found each other after they had calmed down. Victor had been at an international event; his soulmate could be from anywhere, so he had no hope of contacting them. Would they contact him? Did they even know who he was? Why did they run? The questions plagued him often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired portion: "That’s when it hit him. The impact was so strong that it silenced Yuuri mid-sentenced and wrenched out any remaining thoughts in him. Roses. That was his first thought. Roses. Wild roses. Like the type he had smelled when he went to a garden with Yuuko and Nishigori last August, as the third-wheel. It didn’t smell like the artificial rose fragrances that was popular among his classmates. No. It was much more soft and natural. Like a rose that had freshly burst open overnight, preciously innocent and blooming with vitality. But it wasn’t roses. It was also like the forests he hiked in Hasetsu during winter for exercise. An immense, boundless sea of white where the smell of frost and the earth mixed with the icy wind. It was a fragrance that evoked an image of purity but one that undeniably spoke of raw power and untameable beauty. There was more, there was so much more. Yuuri couldn’t compare the smell to anything. It was just like his mother had said. There was too much beauty and too little words in language to embody the invigorating, terrifying, but addicting perfume of his soulmate. Soulmate. His soulmate. Yuuri immediately spun around, craning his neck outwards to catch where the source of the fragrance. He felt his legs quake and his heart nearly bursting from a pastiche of overpowering emotions that was mostly dominated by anticipation. His soulmate was here and was probably a fan of skating! “Holy crap! It’s Victor Nikiforov!” A girl shrieked. The hundreds of bodies remaining outside the stadium turned toward what the girl pointed shakingly at. There stood Victor in the night, illuminated by the streetlights and blushing radiantly. Clad in a grey tracksuit, Victor wore a hat but it did little to conceal his shining hair and mesmerizing beauty. He had probably planned to sneak out to celebrate his victory. However, Victor had frozen in place and his eyes were wide open in shock. Yuuri felt his legs cave underneath him as he realized where his soulmate’s smell came from. His entire throat burned and he could feel his head throbbing painfully. Panic coursed through his body and Yuuri felt as if his veins were simultaneously burning and freezing at once. He felt as if someone was lacing his organs and tightening the hold on the wire by the second. This can’t be it. This can’t be it. Help. Help! Mom! Yuuri screamed silently, unable to move or speak. Recognizing the familiar look of fear and helplessness on her son’s face, Hiroko acted quickly and dragged Yuuri towards one of the taxis lining the sidewalk. There were too many people here. Yuuri needed to be somewhere quiet. That’s when Victor acted. From inside the taxi, Yuuri saw him push aside the throngs of his clamoring fans that had surrounded him with uncharacteristic force and impatience, running to an open space and pointing his nose towards the night sky like a bloodhound. His eyes looked wild and lost, but they reflected a kind of certainty Yuuri had identified in his own eyes as well. He knew Victor had caught the scent too. Yuuri’s scent. His soulmate’s scent. Yuuri tore his eyes away from Victor’s lone silhouette as his mother finished telling the taxi driver the address to their hotel. Taxi drove off into the cooling night and the crowd hungrily swallowed Victor’s figure once more." 
> 
> Please let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favourite chapters. I decided to post it quickly because I have deemed it done for a while. Enjoy!

Six years passed, and at the Grand Prix Final in Sochi, Russia, Victor – just turned twenty-seven – skated onto the ice to perform his free skate. His costume was beautiful: black trousers and a white dress shirt with a deep v-neck, with a pink jacket over it that was sheer in one sleeve and the coattails, and had gold frogging on the front and a gold epaulette on one shoulder; not many men in today’s world could wear pink and still retain their masculinity, but Victor could. His costume was finished off with elbow-length black gloves with only a thumb cover, leaving the rest of his fingers free. The song he chose he had commissioned; it was a love song about a man who was searching for his love, begging her to stay by his side and never leave, desiring to find the person whom he could know and love with all his heart. It held a personal meaning for Victor, who desired the same thing, and he secretly dedicated the performance to his soulmate.

Six years. Six years of ever-increasing loneliness. Victor was more desperate than ever to meet his soulmate, to end his heartache. He had poured his soul into the choreography to create the story, a story of love and longing, searching and adoration. The song was a melancholy one, _Stay Close To Me,_ an Italian aria, and Victor skated it with all his heart. He didn’t have to act for this performance; it was what he truly felt. As he moved his arms back then brought them forward to wrap himself in a hug while he turned, he pleaded in his heart: _Please, please come to me. We don’t even have to fall in love, just let me know you, just stay close to me._

Yuri’s free skate had been a disaster. His short program went fine, but then the pressure got to him and he binged-ate the day before the free skate. That same night, he had gotten a call from his mom telling him that his dog, Vicchan, had died. He hadn’t seen his dog in five years (he was twenty-three now), and was crushed that he didn’t get to say goodbye. He barely slept that night.

Yuri had always had anxiety, but the Grand Prix Final was extremely bad. He was a nervous wreck the whole time, and despite his best efforts to keep it under control his mind raced with thoughts of failure, he couldn’t sit still to save his soul, and his concentration was shot. Plus his soulmate was there to avoid. Mentally and physically at his worst, Yuri performed poorly, messing up almost every jump he had. Usually his performance score (choreography and presentation) was high enough to save him, but not this time.

In fact, it was a miracle Yuri was part of the Grand Prix at all. He knew when he qualified that he risked running into Victor Nikiforov. No matter how much he wanted to compete in the Grand Prix, he didn’t want to run into his soulmate. He had worked hard to qualify, but when it came right down to it he was ready to back out. Phichit, his friend from college and rink mate and the only person whom Yuri trusted to tell about his soulmate, urged Yuri to do it anyway.

‘Come on, Yuri, this is what you’ve been aiming for! You can’t _not_ join the Grand Prix because you-know-who is your soulmate. This is your career!’

‘But Phichit, he’ll be there! I want to do the Grand Prix, I really do, and I can avoid him backstage, but what if I make the podium? He’ll be there right next to me! He’s won four years in a row, there’s no way he won’t make the podium. And he’ll smell me! That close, he’ll smell me! I can’t do it!’ Yuri cried.

Even Phichit didn’t know the main reason Yuri was afraid to meet his soulmate; it was simply too personal to share. Yuri was afraid that someone would force him to marry, if not Victor or their parents then any fan or friend who found out; in some countries – such as Russia – the government could force you to marry your soulmate if they found out. Soulmates were not allowed to divorce anywhere, though they could legally separate. If Yuri got married, then he would be expected to have… his least favourite thing. Yuri didn’t think Victor would force him, he knew better from the fragrance, but he imagined being guilted about it, being pushed for anything sexual to happen, or getting a separation and left with a broken heart after he fell in love. Or, falling in love with someone else and not being able to be with them. Yuri felt that, if he met his soulmate, that part of his life would no longer be his, he would no longer have a choice. Sometimes he felt like a small bird desperately trying to avoid a metal trap.

They debated back and forth for several days before Phichit came up with a solution: if Yuri made the podium, he could fake being sick or having a panic attack and his coach would then accept the medal for him. Celestino knew that Yuri could have panic attacks (Yuri was positive he could fake one with the alternative being meeting his soulmate), and the stress release was a believable reason to be sick. He could then avoid being in the scent range and still get his medal. Yuri liked the plan, and accepted his invitation to the Grand Prix.

A soulmate fragrance wasn’t able to be scented like a normal scent that a dog could track; it didn’t leave traces. It was detectable within roughly fifteen feet and didn’t get more potent the closer one got to their soulmate. It was simply there or not. However, people never mistook someone else for their soulmate. The fragrance was strong, but if one spent time with one’s soulmate it faded to the background quickly as one got used to it. It was not detectable through walls or other blockades with some very few exceptions, such as cardboard and fabric. Yuri was fairly confident that he could avoid Victor back stage during performances – it was usually a huge space anyway and Yuri didn’t like socializing, especially when nervous – but if he placed he would have to stand right next to him.

Yuri almost cried right there on international TV after his free skate. He felt absolutely humiliated. He was more disappointed in himself than he had ever been. _What made me think that I could be good enough to compete against **him**? _ he thought. He had always wanted to compete on the same ice as Victor, even though he could no longer meet him. And he had blown it. He had let his nerves get the best of him and he had _blown it_. His anxiety raged on, though nerves were now replaced with a crushing failure that hovered over his head, waiting to overtake him.

_I can break down later,_ he told himself, _I just have to make it until this is over._ He put on his glasses and sat in the audience to watch the other skaters, sitting well away from the rink so Victor wouldn’t smell him if he skated by. Victor was still Yuri’s favourite, even with the soulmate terror, and Yuri wasn’t about to miss him perform live; something good had to come out of this wretched evening.

Yuri cried when he watched Victor’s skate; it was so _sad_ , so full of _longing_ , that Yuri couldn’t help it. _There is no way he can be that sad,_ Yuri thought as tears rolled down his cheeks. The sparkles on Victor’s jacket glittered under the lights as he spun. _He’s Victor Nikiforov, there’s no way he’s that lonely._ But still, it seemed so real that Yuri doubted himself. Was Victor, who had thousands of adoring fans, was on top of the world, and surely had many friends and a loving family, lonely?

The sad free skate did nothing to lift Yuri’s spirits, as beautiful as it was. As the medals were awarded to the skaters, Victor taking gold, Yuri sat backstage and scrolled through articles on his phone, despite his coach’s protests: “Men’s Figure Skating: Katsuki Suffers Utter Defeat”, “Katsuki Defeated: Still Needs to Work on Nerves”. There was even one that suggested that this season might be his final one. Feeling done and border-lined overwhelmed, Yuri retreated to the bathroom for some peace and quiet to call his mom.

‘Hey, Mom, were you sleeping?... Sorry.’ Yuri sounded remarkably natural for someone who felt like curling up into a ball and crying. He spoke in Japanese. ‘Yeah, I figured you’d see it on TV… What? You had a viewing party? Oh gosh, I’m so embarrassed!’ Yuri chuckled nervously. He didn’t register what his mom said next as he suddenly felt his hovering failure crash down on him. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said softly, ‘I messed up.’ Knowing he wouldn’t be able to keep it together much longer, he hung up. He started to cry.

He had about ten seconds to release his pain before the door rattled with the force of a great kick, making him jump. Yuri quickly pulled himself together as best he could before opening the door, disappointed that he couldn’t fall apart in peace.

‘Sorry,’ he said in English, then noticed who it was. It was the Junior Grand Prix Final gold medalist, Yuri Plisetsky, the Russian Punk, and he was looking at Yuri like he was a piece of trash. Yuri felt his nerves spike.

‘Hey,’ the medalist said sharply, pointing a finger in Yuri’s face, ‘I’m competing in the senior division next year. We don’t need two Yuris in the same bracket. Incompetents like you should just retire. Loser!’ he shouted into Yuri’s face. With that, he left, leaving Yuri feeling worse than ever, and mortified that he had been yelled at by a fifteen-year-old.

_Guess I should find my coach,_ Yuri thought. The stress continued to build up inside of him, winding him tighter and tighter until he felt that he would uncontrollably shatter. He took a deep breath for strength and exited the bathroom. He was packing in the locker room, and had just slid on his blue coat to combat the Russian winter outside when he ran into another skater: J.J. Leroy, the Men’s Senior bronze medalist.

‘Hey, Katsuki!’ he said much too loudly. ‘That was a spectacular mess-up! What a flop!’ He clapped Yuri on the back, as though the whole thing were funny. ‘I haven’t seen anyone mess up that many jumps since I was in Intermediates!’

Yuri wished he had a scathing reply, but he knew that if he talked right then his voice would break. He swung his backpack on, grabbed his suitcase handle, and left the room without even a glance at the medalist. Yuri felt like he had been stomped on.

_Defeated, humiliated, mess-up, flop, incompetent, loser, mortified, failure._ Those words bounced around in his mind as he walked behind his coach heading for the exit of the Iceberg Skating Palace. The lobby was large, with a glass wall to Yuri’s right revealing the audience now standing outside as they waited for their taxis, and blue stanchions on the left to keep people from crowding the door.

_Keep it together,_ Yuri told himself strictly. _Just a little longer._ It had been difficult to pull himself back together enough to face the Russian Punk, and after J.J. he only had a shaky grasp on his composure.

‘Katsuki-kun!’ a voice called.

Yuri turned around. ‘Newscaster Morooka,’ he greeted passively.

The frown the man was wearing gave way to an intense expression. ‘Don’t give up, kid, you hear me?! You’re too young to retire!’ he said passionately.

Yuri shrank further into himself. This is not what he needed. ‘I haven’t made any decisions yet,’ Yuri answered. ‘Please don’t assume anything.’

‘What are your plans after you graduate from college?’ he pressed.

‘Uhh…’ was all Yuri could say, looking away in an attempt to stall. Undeterred, Morooka pressed on.

‘Are you staying in Detroit?’

‘I’ll have to discuss that with Coach Celestino,’ Yuri answered as his gaze drifted off to his left. He caught sight of a lady standing outside holding a small poodle. It looked exactly like Vicchan.

‘Listen, you’ve got a lot of thinking to do—’ the newscaster continued.

_I don’t **want** to think, _ Yuri thought as Morooka uselessly tried to scold and encourage him. His attention was on the little dog. _I’m sorry, Vicchan. I wish I could have said goodbye._ Tears gathered in his eyes.

‘Yuri,’ said a voice. Yuri turned automatically.

Big mistake. He turned just in time to see it was Victor Nikiforov walking into the lobby talking to the Russian Yuri before the fragrance nearly knocked him senseless. He could think of nothing for a whole three seconds before the gears in his head started turning again. No. This could not be happening. Yuri whipped around and, leaving his suitcase with his coach, started walking briskly for the door. _Don’t run,_ he told himself. _It will only draw attention to you. Just keep walking._

Victor had been going to comment on Yuri’s step sequences when he froze. No matter, Yakov was more than happy to pick up where he left off and scold Yuri as he walked towards them. Yuri might have said something to Victor, he wasn’t sure, so focused was he on the fragrance filling his mind.

It was exactly the same as last time, enchanting and inspiring. It was rain, but not rain that had cycled through the earth and sky thousands upon thousands of times, no; it was sparklingly innocent and preciously pure, like God had freshly made it before releasing it from Heaven’s skies. But it was also honeysuckle, wild and sweet, thriving in a hidden dell where the scent of the cool breeze entwined with the warm sunshine. It inspired an image of sweet innocence, gentle kindness, soft beauty, and careful mystery.

_They’re here._ He felt his desperation rise like waves of the sea as he looked out at the crowd. Movement caught his eye. A boy in a blue coat – probably a skater, he couldn’t tell from the back – was walking fast towards the doors, two men calling after him in confusion. Victor, on a hunch, stepped over the stanchion belt and started to follow him. The boy pushed the doors open and the fragrance vanished when they closed. And then Victor knew. _No,_ Victor thought desperately as he broke into a run. _Not again._

He burst out the doors and the fragrance hit him again. He turned to the right and saw the boy peek over his shoulder as he weaved through the lingering crowd. He sprinted after him.

‘Wait,’ Victor called, dodging people on the sidewalk.

Yuri had felt a fraction of his control return when the fragrance disappeared, only to have it ripped away when he smelled it again. He saw that Victor was chasing him – not following, _chasing_ him. Yuri _hated_ being chased. He almost bolted in a fit of sheer nerves, but managed to keep himself together in the vain hope that Victor didn’t think it was him – barely. His legs and hands felt tingly, and he recognized it as a sign of an impending panic attack. There was too much to focus on. His soulmate, his soulmate’s fragrance, being chased, his panic, his failure, his future, his dog, his self-destruction… all were vying for Yuri’s attention.

‘Wait!’ Victor called again, more desperately this time, and closer.

That did it. Yuri bolted. His stomach and lungs clenched in hard knots from being chased; it was worsening his panic and making him feel threatened. He wanted to run until he could never be found, but he couldn’t. He made it down the side of the building where the giant storage sheds were before the tightening in his chest became too much and forced him to stop. At least there were no people this far down; it was safe to panic here. Yuri was starting to feel claustrophobic in his own coat, and his blood was heating up. He quickly tugged off his backpack and almost clawed his way out of his coat before throwing off his rink pass. He tried to regulate his breathing, but still it was coming out too shaky and fast.

Victor’s insides clenched when his soulmate started to run. The boy was farther ahead and had the advantage of being almost out of the crowd when he ran. Victor pushed people out of the way and watched him round the side of the building. The fragrance disappeared. As soon as the people dispersed, Victor ran full speed, but he didn’t have to run for long until he saw him. He was standing with his back to him, one hand on the wall and his coat on the ground. Victor slowed his pace and came up alongside him. He recognized him now, he was Yuri Katsuki from Japan. Victor remembered his name because it was also a Russian name and he had admired Yuri’s skating.

‘Le-… leave me alone,’ Yuri begged miserably, his voice tight with distress. ‘Please.’

Victor stalled a moment, struggling to find the right thing to say that wasn’t an abrupt “no”. ‘Why?’ he asked; it was his second automatic thought.

It caused the skater more distress though. He grimaced, choked on air, and sank to his knees rather roughly, his hands coming up to rest on the sides of his head. Victor finally processed the state of the boy in front of him. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked worriedly as he knelt down.

‘Panic attack,’ Yuri managed. ‘Get my coach.’

‘Who is he?’

‘Ch… Celestino,’ Yuri gritted out. ‘Italian, lo-long hair.’

‘All right,’ said Victor as his worry rose rapidly. ‘I’ll be right back.’ He leapt up and ran as fast as he could towards the doors, looking back over his shoulder at the trembling form on the ground.

The fragrance vanished, and Yuri felt worse instead of relief; now he was entirely alone. He struggled to breathe, but his lungs seemed to be bound with iron and getting smaller with each passing second. His body temperature alternated arbitrarily between burning and freezing, and nausea swirled in his stomach like a poisonous sludge. His muscles trembled, and were tightly bound as if for a steep drop that would never come. Yuri started to experience derealization, feeling detached from his surroundings and familiar things became unfamiliar. He tugged on his hair to try to ground himself, but it didn’t work very well. Yuri was gripped with fear: he was going to die right now, painfully and alone.

Victor didn’t have to enter the building before he saw a man that must be Yuri’s coach. He was standing outside pulling a suitcase, looking around in confusion. Victor spotted his long hair in a ponytail and his rink pass as he ran up.

‘Coach Celestino?’ he asked, slightly breathless.

‘Yes,’ answered the man.

‘Yuri’s having a panic attack.’

Celestino’s eyes widened briefly in concern before they narrowed with protectiveness and determination. ‘Where is he?’ he demanded.

‘This way,’ Victor replied as he turned around. They walked as fast as they could with the suitcase. Celestino couldn’t leave it, Victor knew, because it contained Yuri’s skates. Most skaters carry their skates in a suitcase for competition.

When they reached Yuri he was still on his knees, trembling, head bent, and yanking on his hair. Celestino abandoned the suitcase and knelt in front of Yuri, but Victor was already at Yuri’s side.

‘No no, Yuri,’ Victor said, trying to take his hands. ‘You’ll hurt yourself.’

‘Yuri,’ came Celestino’s deep voice, ‘I’m here. You need to breathe.’ He reached up to take Yuri’s other hand, but Yuri wasn’t having it. His grip tightened on his hair and he gave it another yank, crying out softly when it did nothing.

‘Yuri, let go,’ said Victor, fully alarmed as he tried to pry Yuri’s fingers away.

Celestino too worked to free Yuri’s fingers with little luck. ‘Nikiforov, grab his coat,’ he said. ‘It’s too cold out here.’

Victor picked up Yuri’s coat and tried to drape it around him to protect him from the cold, but Yuri made a panicked noise of negation and reached out and pushed it away like it would eat him. The action made Yuri free one of his hands though, and Celestino grabbed it. Yuri’s breathing picked up even more, so fast and shallow it was almost non-existent. He pulled to free his hand, using his other hand to struggle against his coach. Celestino took that one too.

‘Yuri,’ said his coach calmly, ‘Yuri, you are safe. It’s your coach.’ He placed Yuri’s hands on his chest and breathed deeply. ‘Breathe with me Yuri, focus on your breathing.’

Yuri looked up at his coach then, tears streaming down his cheeks and his eyes wide with fear as he struggled for air. Victor’s eyes widened with even greater alarm and worry, and he looked to Celestino for clues, but the man was focused fully on his student, encouraging him to breathe as deeply as he could. When Yuri struggled to take a deeper breath, making a harsh and unsettling noise in the back of his throat, Celestino praised him, and encouraged him to try again, but deeper this time.

Victor was distressed. His soulmate was suffering, and he had no clue what to do. Yuri was _crying_ ; Victor never did well with people’s tears. He felt completely helpless. He wanted to hug him, but Yuri looked like he would shatter at a mere touch. So Victor stayed knelt on his knees with his hands splayed stiff across his thighs as he watched Yuri intently. A thousand thoughts swarmed through his head, but they were forced into some semblance of submission with Yuri’s panic attack.

Yuri and Celestino kept breathing together for almost ten minutes, Celestino giving words of encouragement and reaffirmation of who he was every so often, before Yuri finally seemed to be calming down. His breaths were slower, more even, and deeper. He still kept his eyes firmly on his coach, but he had one of his hands back now, pressed against his own chest to calm him.

‘There you go, Yuri,’ said his coach quietly, his voice full of encouragement. Yuri shivered. ‘Do you want your coat now?’ Celestino asked.

Yuri nodded, but didn’t remove his hands. Victor took up the coat and gently draped it over Yuri’s shoulders, relieved to finally be able to do something. Yuri moved his hands to hold the edges of his coat in a weak grip, but didn’t break eye-contact with his coach as he kept up his purposeful breathing. They all stayed like that for a while, kneeling on the ground, Victor shivering from the cold in only his track suit. Finally, Yuri dropped his gaze and spoke.

‘I want to go back to the hotel,’ he said hoarsely, quietly.

‘All right,’ said Celestino. ‘We’ll get a taxi.’ He slowly stood up, grunting as the blood started flowing back to his legs and his joints protested. He held out a hand for Yuri, who was almost nodding off on the pavement. ‘Yuri,’ his coach said. ‘Don’t fall asleep.’

Yuri forced his eyes back open with obvious great effort and wearily took his coach’s hand, Victor standing with him. He stumbled as he stood, and Victor reached out to steady him. Yuri seemed to barely notice.

‘He’s still trembling,’ said Victor worriedly to Celestino as the man put his arm around his student’s waist to help hold him up. Yuri was almost asleep on his feet.

‘That’s normal. It’s the adrenaline,’ he assured him. ‘Yuri, wake up. You have to walk,’ he said to the boy.

‘Kay,’ mumbled Yuri, but he made no move to move.

Victor picked up Yuri’s backpack and put the skater’s rink pass in the pocket. ‘I can get a taxi to come over here for you,’ he offered.

Celestino looked at him. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I’m going to have to carry him. He’s in no condition to walk. Thank you.’

Victor turned reluctantly and walked briskly away. Taxis were everywhere, and he directed one down the side of the building. When he reached the pair, Celestino was holding a sleeping Yuri curled in his arms, one of the dangling coat sleeves moving slightly in the soft wind. Victor grabbed the suitcase and put it in the trunk of the taxi along with the backpack. He opened the back door for Celestino, and the Italian man roused Yuri just enough to get him into the backseat. Yuri leaned against the door as soon as it was closed, out like a light. Celestino straightened.

‘Thank you, Nikiforov,’ he said amicably and held out his hand.

‘Victor,’ replied the Russian as he shook his hand. ‘And I want to come with you.’

‘That’s not necessary,’ said Celestino. He used a tone meant to assure, but to Victor it was a declaration of exile.

‘No, I want to,’ he insisted. ‘You’ll need help carrying your things.’

Celestino thought for a moment. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Thank you. I appreciate your help.’

Victor assured him it was no problem and quickly volunteered to sit in the back. Celestino let him, and they were off to the hotel. It occurred to Victor on the way there that he didn’t have his cell phone and that his coach didn’t know where he was, but it didn’t really bother him. He was an adult, and known for being slightly eccentric.

He watched Yuri the whole way. He couldn’t take his eyes off him. His soulmate was here, so close, and Victor was battling several emotions. Why had Yuri run? Victor didn’t think it was because of the panic attack. He felt like he made his soulmate afraid, and that bothered him deeply; he didn’t want to alienate from him the one person he wanted close more than anything.

His fragrance matched his looks, the part of the fragrance that spoke of it. Yuri was beautiful. He had thick black hair, pale clear skin, and round cheeks that gave him a soft appearance. His lashes were short but very thick, dark as spilled ink, and Victor wished he could see his eyes. Yuri wasn’t a handsome beautiful like Victor, he was a cute beautiful. Victor was sharp and stunning, Yuri was soft and sweet. Victor wanted to touch him, badly, not because of his looks but because he was his soulmate, and Victor had been lonely and searching for so long that he craved even the smallest of connections.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

When they reached the hotel, Victor carried the bags and Celestino carried Yuri. Victor opened the door, and Celestino asked him to turn down the bed. He did so, and Celestino laid down his student. He pulled off Yuri’s glasses and set them on the table, then handed the coat to Victor, then pulled off Yuri’s shoes, leaving him in his track suit. Yuri was out of costume, so he would be fairly comfortable.

Victor stayed staring at Yuri, determined to spend all the time that he could with him. He wanted to stay all night but knew that wasn’t an option. It wouldn’t be appropriate, soulmate or no, and his coach was probably pulling out his hair by now. Victor decided to put him out of his misery.

After Celestino thanked him, Victor asked if he could borrow a cell phone to call his coach. Celestino graciously handed his over, and Victor called Yakov.

Yakov wasn’t too happy that Victor disappeared, but calmed down when he said that he was helping a skater who had a panic attack. Yakov forgave him, though he didn’t say it aloud, and told him to get back quickly and safely. Victor spoke in Russian, and soon ended the call.

‘I had the taxi stay for you,’ said Celestino when he took his phone. Victor smiled distractedly at him then looked back at Yuri. Celestino noticed his gaze. ‘He’ll be fine,’ he said with a reassuring smile. ‘He always is exhausted after a panic attack. They take a lot out of him.’

‘Does he get them often?’ Victor asked softly, his eyes remaining on Yuri. He felt stunned from his whirling emotions.

‘No. He’s only gotten them twice since he’s been with me. I’ve been his coach five years, though that was the worst one yet.’

Victor looked up to nod, then looked back at his sleeping soulmate. ‘I want to see him again,’ he said quietly.

Celestino now looked at him suspiciously. ‘Why?’ he asked.

‘I’m his soulmate,’ Victor whispered.

Celestino went silent with surprise. After a while, he answered. ‘We leave tomorrow afternoon. But if you want to come by in the morning, I’ll give you my phone number. But fair warning, if he ran from you tonight, he might not want to see you.’

‘I have to see him,’ Victor replied quickly. He didn’t want the man to know everything, but he hoped his desperation showed through enough to convince Celestino.

Celestino nodded, and wrote down his number on a piece of hotel paper. He seemed pondering and protective. Victor couldn’t blame him; someone ran from their soulmate, which was strange, but that someone was his student, and it was his job to protect him.

‘Call that tomorrow,’ said Celestino as he handed Victor the paper, ‘and we’ll set up a time for you to meet.’

‘Thank you.’ It was said with the utmost sincerity.

Victor left, and returned to the rink. The moment Yakov clapped eyes on him he noticed that something was weighing on Victor. He said nothing, and Victor was grateful. Victor knew he would be late to the banquet, but he didn’t want to go anymore. He had too much on his mind and knew he wouldn’t enjoy himself.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Back at the hotel, Yakov sent Yuri to go change for the banquet. He didn’t question Victor about not going; he saw that Victor was unusually subdued. Victor had only taken off his shoes and track jacket, leaving him in his white v-necked T-shirt underneath, when he heard a knock at his door. He opened it. It was Yakov, minus his coat and scarf. They spoke in Russian.

‘Vitya,’ he said, ‘what’s wrong?’ His voice still retained some gruffness, but it was mellowed by concern.

Victor stared for a second, considering. ‘I found my soulmate.’

Yakov’s expression didn’t change; he came into the room and Victor shut the door. Yakov turned around. ‘So you’ve found them again.’

‘Yes,’ said Victor, but his voice was unhappy. ‘I found him.’ Victor stared at the floor, clearly upset.

Yakov waited; he knew that when Victor was like this, he needed very little prodding to spill. He was aware of Victor’s struggle and search for his soulmate; Victor occasionally talked about it over the years, little bits at a time; but what he didn’t say with words he said on the ice. After talking about his soulmate or when he came to practice looking downhearted, he would always skate with such _longing_ that Yakov was certain he could medal on interpretation alone. Yakov was well aware that Victor’s theme for the year and his free skate were chosen with his soulmate in mind.

Victor looked up at his coach and mentor. ‘He ran from me.’ His voice was strained. ‘I don’t know why. He ran, Yakov. Why would he run? Doesn’t he want to meet his soulmate?’ Victor was fighting tears.

‘Vitya,’ said Yakov kindly.

‘What if he doesn’t want me? –as his soulmate?... If he doesn’t want to know me… I’ve been searching for this for so long, I don’t know if I can take the rejection.’ Victor inhaled sharply and shakily, trying to keep back his tears. ‘I want to cherish someone. I want to know them, and be known… Is he afraid of me?’ His voice cracked in distress. ‘I don’t want that… I’m not angry. Just upset. I don’t….’ he couldn’t continue.

‘Vitya,’ said Yakov, pulling him into a rare hug. Victor fell into it easily, some tears spilling from his beautiful blue eyes. ‘I want you to listen. People run when they’re scared or upset. If this is the same boy whose fragrance has enchanted you for six years, then he didn’t mean to hurt you. He probably has his reasons. Don’t be afraid to ask him.’ Victor nodded against his shoulder, and Yakov pulled back. ‘I take it that you have a way to get ahold of him,’ he said.

Victor nodded and wiped his eyes. ‘I have his coach’s number. I’m going to meet him tomorrow – my soulmate.’

‘Good. Now, Vitya.’ Yakov waited until Victor looked him in the eyes before continuing. ‘I know you are going to want to rush into this. You are going to want to know everything about this boy immediately, and I know that you’ve been wanting it for a long time. I know you are lonely. But take it slowly. Don’t chase him, he’s already run. Show him that you are safe to come to.’

Victor nodded, seeing the wisdom in his coach’s advice. Part of him knew better, but he needed the reminder; he had been going to rush.

‘Get some rest. I’ll keep Yuri from bothering you and make your apologies at the banquet.’ Yakov headed for the door.

‘Thank you,’ Victor said as he followed him. He felt a little better.

‘Goodnight, Vitya,’ said his coach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found this picture after I wrote the last scene. https://i.pinimg.com/originals/42/59/f2/4259f25ba38fbb51dc79ffb56b99acc5.png
> 
> Please leave a comment!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on dashes: a long dash means an interruption or a short break in sound, like stopping what you're going to say but then continuing. A short dash (wh-what?) means a stutter. A space-dash-space means an extra note or some extra information at the last moment, not necessarily sped up and is often more to make things easier to read than to tell how a character says something, though that can happen.
> 
> This has my favourite scene. Enjoy!

The next morning, Victor called Celestino right after breakfast. Celestino said there was a tea house near them that would be a good meeting place. Victor wrote down the name, completely amused as Celestino described the Russian letters to him instead of sending a picture. Celestino said he and Yuri had to leave by eleven, and that Yuri was willing to meet at ten.

Victor was uncharacteristically nervous as he stepped up to order his tea. He was wearing a white knit shirt and brown slacks with a matching jacket, well-dressed for going out like any Russian. He looked for Yuri while he waited. He spotted him sitting against the far wall at a little round table, twisting his thin paper napkin within an inch of its life and trying to appear as small as possible. He was wearing a blue shirt and black slacks with a grey jacket.

Victor thanked the barista, took his tea, and walked towards Yuri, bracing himself for the fragrance. He walked slowly, not wanting to be too close when Yuri looked up and startle him. The fragrance hit him like a freight train, beautiful and awe-inspiring, and Yuri looked up. Victor gave him a nervous smile, unable to fake an easy persona like with the reporters. Yuri’s jaw tightened in a semblance of a smile, and he looked back at his tea. When Victor reached him and set down his tea, Yuri looked back up through his bangs, clearly nervous.

‘Hello,’ said Victor with a small smile. He held out his hand. ‘I’m Victor Nikiforov.’

Yuri stood and shook his hand. ‘I’m Yuri Katsuki.’ His voice was steady enough. Victor got to see his eyes now, and they were lovely, warm, and brown.

They sat down. Yuri took a swallow of his tea. Victor did the same, and decided that as the older adult and the one who chased Yuri down he needed to be the one to start the conversation. He could see that Yuri’s hands trembled when he picked up his tea cup.

‘What kind of tea did you get?’ he asked. His voice was somewhat soft, but he didn’t stop to wonder why.

‘Huh? Oh,’ said Yuri looking up. ‘Uh, Russian Caravan.’

Victor smiled. ‘Same.’ It was Russia’s traditional tea, and his favourite. He opened his mouth to say more, but Yuri beat him to it.

‘Congratulations on your gold,’ he said.

‘Thank you,’ Victor responded. ‘I liked your skating. Your step sequences were almost flawless, and you led the music around the ice like it was your dance partner. It was beautiful.’

Yuri looked utterly stunned. ‘Uh… Thank you,’ he replied. There was another lull in the conversation during which Yuri continued to twist his napkin into oblivion and Victor decided that he might as well ask what was most on his mind. They clearly weren’t handling pleasantries very well.

‘Yuri,’ said Victor, and Yuri inwardly cringed as he took another sip. It was that careful tone of voice that said he was going to ask something uncomfortable. ‘Why did you run?’

Ever since his coach had told him that morning that Victor Nikiforov wanted to meet him, Yuri had been putting together how he could best answer that question with minimal embarrassment to himself and without revealing very personal information, though he was sure he hadn’t succeeded as well as he wanted. He set down his teacup.

‘You’re a living legend,’ he began, blunt because he couldn’t think of a smoother way, ‘the most talented figure skater in the world. Everyone expects your soulmate to be talented and beautiful and amazing. Even I did. But— I’m not like that. I’ll never live up to it. That’s one of the reasons.’ His voice quieted at the end as he looked away.

Victor was surprised. He suspected that his celebrity status might have something to do with it, it was intimidating after all, but Yuri was hard on himself. ‘But you are those things, Yuri,’ he countered.

‘No, I’m not,’ Yuri returned immediately with a shake of his head.

‘You are,’ Victor insisted.

‘You don’t even know me.’ He sounded a little annoyed.

‘True, I don’t, but I saw you skate,’ Victor said, trying to prove and mollify. ‘And you are talented. You move gracefully and express emotions beautifully. Your jumps need work and you’re inconsistent, but Yuri, you have extraordinary potential. I know you weren’t happy with your free skate, but that doesn’t mean you’re talentless.’ Victor’s eyes seemed to smile, and his voice was soft and sincere. ‘And you are beautiful. You have thick hair and a lovely face and I’ve never seen a kinder pair of eyes.’

Yuri was scarlet by the end of that short speech. He picked up his teacup and took a drink in an attempt to hide behind it. Victor thought it was endearing.

‘Thanks,’ Yuri muttered.

Victor let him recover and took a sip of his own tea. ‘You said that was one reason,’ he prompted gently.

‘Yeah,’ said Yuri quietly as his cheeks and ears returned to their original colour. He had grabbed his napkin and was twisting it again under the table. ‘I’ve always wanted to… to fall in love naturally, with my soulmate or not.’ He wasn’t meeting Victor’s eyes, looking instead at his tea. ‘And you’re not allowed to. You have to… marry your soulmate. Right away, usually. And I… I wanted to marry for love.’ He was blushing again, pink dusting his cheeks. ‘Sorry, that probably sounds cheesy.’

‘Cheesy?’

‘Uh, cliché,’ Yuri clarified.

‘No, Yuri; it doesn’t. It sounds beautiful,’ Victor assured him earnestly. Yuri was watching him carefully, gauging, waiting. This was clearly uncomfortable for him, but he was being a good sport for Victor’s sake. Victor thought a moment. ‘I expected to fall in love with my soulmate. But it was never a must. We don’t have to. We never have to marry—’

‘In Russia you do,’ Yuri interrupted, a trace of bitterness in his tone. ‘It’s the law. I looked it up. And in Japan if you know who your soulmate is and don’t marry them you’re practically ostracized.’

Victor considered. If he were reading things correctly, Yuri felt trapped, and had for a while. He didn’t want that. ‘Yuri, how many people know I’m your soulmate?’ he asked.

‘Just my friend Phichit. Well, and now my coach,’ Yuri answered.

Victor nodded. ‘Only my coach knows I found my soulmate. And he won’t tell if I ask him. I don’t mind keeping it secret, Yuri, not for you. I wasn’t looking to marry; I just want to know you. I…’ now it was Victor’s turn to look down, ‘I don’t have friends, and my family is long dead. I’ve not had a deep… emotionally intimate relationship in a long time.’ Victor was playing with his fingers, and he still avoided Yuri’s eyes. ‘I’ve been longing for that sort of connection for years. I made it the theme of my free skate. I dedicated my last performance to my soulmate.’

‘Really?’ Yuri was surprised. ‘That was for me?’

Victor smiled gently. Yuri was cute. ‘Yes,’ he answered, looking up. And then somewhat shyly, ‘Did you see it?’

‘Yes. I was in the audience. I, uh… I wasn’t going to miss a chance to see you perform live.’

Victor felt warm inside.

‘It was my favourite routine that you’ve done,’ Yuri continued shyly as he rubbed his thighs with his palms, not meeting Victor’s eyes, which was a shame really, because Victor wanted to look into his, but settled for gazing at him. ‘It was very beautiful. And very sad. I cried, actually. The choreography was amazing and the execution flawless. You translate music and emotion into movement masterfully. You’re— it’s stunning. And the music was beautiful too.’ He was silent a moment, pondering. He looked up at Victor. ‘Are you really that sad and lonely?’ he asked, completely genuine.

Victor had felt delighted hearing what Yuri said about his skating; it meant more coming from him than from any judge or fan. He smiled sadly at him. ‘Yes.’

Yuri held his gaze a moment before looking back down at the table. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly.

‘Don’t be, Yuri. It’s not your fault. I don’t really understand why you ran, but I don’t blame you for it,’ Victor replied honestly.

Yuri dropped his gaze off to the side and to the floor, and Victor was suddenly made aware that there was something Yuri wasn’t telling him. ‘There’s… another reason I don’t want to get married,’ Yuri began nervously. ‘But I don’t want to tell you.’

‘Why not?’

Yuri’s ears turned pink. ‘It’s personal. May— maybe later.’

‘Oh. That’s all right, Yuri; I understand,’ Victor replied. He meant it; whatever it was clearly made Yuri uncomfortable, and Victor understood personal, no matter how much he wanted to know. He was not a reporter; he could wait.

‘Really?’ Yuri was surprised again.

Victor looked at him quizzically. ‘Of course.’ Did Yuri expect him to push?

Yuri stared at him. When Victor gave him a little smile of reassurance, relief washed over his face. Yuri was thinking again, and Victor took a drink of tea to give him some more time. The tea was good, and still warm; it really was his favourite.

Yuri started speaking. ‘I’m really glad you understand.’ He wrung his napkin. ‘I really expected to be forced,’ he admitted quietly.

_People run when they’re scared._ Yakov’s words echoed in his mind. ‘Am I that frightening, Yuri?’ He tried to keep the disappointment and upset out of his voice, but he wasn’t sure he entirely succeeded.

‘No,’ Yuri replied, rushing to reassure him. ‘I should have known better. I know you’re friendly, to your fans and in interviews. But it’s all anyone wants out of their soulmates, and practically every country makes you so I… I was afraid you’d force me, I guess. Or someone would. But I should have known from your fragrance tha—…’ Yuri’s ears turned red and he gaped, like he caught himself admitting something he hadn’t planned on saying. ‘…that you wouldn’t.’ Yuri looked mortified with himself, and quickly picked up his teacup.

Victor smiled, mouth closed, and tried and failed to keep his interest off his face. He wanted to ask what his fragrance smelled like, but he wasn’t going to corner Yuri and force him to compliment him to his face. Admittedly, Victor would be embarrassed if Yuri asked what his smelled like. Soulmate fragrances were very private.

He decided to shift the topic so Yuri’s ears could return to normal. ‘You saw me before, right? In Tokyo?’

Yuri nodded. ‘Yeah,’ he said as he set down his teacup. ‘It was the first time I got to see you skate in person. You broke a world record.’ A smile spread across his face as he said it.

Victor beamed. Yuri was proud of him; he could hear it in his voice.

Yuri continued; he was more comfortable with this topic. ‘Going to the Grand Prix Final was my birthday present that year. I loved it. I could barely sit still. My mom said that I was so excited that I was more fun to watch than the skaters.’

Victor was sure he was, he was excited now just remembering it: sitting up straighter, livelier tone, bright eyes. Victor wished he could have seen him then. And he realized something: Yuri was a fan.

Yuri seemed to be reminded of something. ‘Oh,’ he said, his tone self-conscious again. ‘Thanks, by the way, for getting my coach last night.’

‘It was nothing,’ said Victor. Then, ‘What caused it?’ He couldn’t help himself.

‘Well… a variety of things really,’ Yuri began slowly, rubbing the edge of the table with his thumb. ‘They don’t usually have triggers, but that one was inevitable, I guess.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I… I have anxiety, and it always kicks up during competitions, but yesterday was really, really, bad. I was a nervous wreck the whole time. And the night before my mom called and told me my dog died. I didn’t get to say goodbye.’ Tears gathered in Yuri’s eyes.

Victor’s heart ached for him. ‘I’m sorry, Yuri,’ he offered in condolence.

Yuri flashed a weak smile. ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘Anyway,’ he forced back his tears and moved on quickly, ‘I got hardly any sleep that night, and I self-destructed during my free skate.’ It was clear from his voice that he was greatly disappointed in himself. ‘Then Yuri Plisetsky cornered me in the bathroom and told me I’m incompetent and should retire. Then J.J. basically said I was a failure. And then, um, y— your fragrance.’ Yuri rubbed his knees and glanced at Victor, then away.

Victor felt terrible. ‘I’m sorry, Yuri.’

Yuri shook his head. ‘It’s not your fault. You didn’t make me have a panic attack, it was just the final straw.’

Victor dropped his eyes. He still felt partially responsible, and therefore guilty. He also made a mental note to scold Yuri Plisetsky for being nasty and callous. He would scold J.J. too, if he were to run into him.

‘Hey, Victor,’ Yuri said to get his attention, leaning forward a little. Victor looked back up. ‘It’s really not your fault.’

Victor stared into Yuri’s earnest brown eyes. Yuri was looking directly into his eyes now, telling Victor with his gaze that he did not blame him. Victor felt better. He smiled gratefully at him, and Yuri smiled – just a little – back. Victor kept gazing into Yuri’s eyes, resting in the kindness and warmth he found there, until Yuri all too quickly dropped his gaze. Victor realized, now that he got a good look at them, that Yuri’s eyes were not only brown in colour: the milk chocolate brown was steeped in a deep, deep red – darker than red wine – giving his eyes a beautiful, deep mahogany colour.

Yuri returned to his tea, and Victor searched for another topic.

‘Are you going home to Japan?’ he asked.

‘No,’ replied Yuri. ‘I live in Detroit, in America, right now. I’m going to university.’

‘Oh,’ said Victor. ‘What are you studying?’

‘Exercise physiology.’

‘Do you graduate soon?’

‘Yeah. This coming spring.’

‘What will you do after?’ Victor had other reasons for asking than polite conversation; he wanted to know when he would most likely see Yuri again outside competition, and where to find him.

‘I’m not sure.’ Yuri’s voice was quieter and somewhat evasive, as though there were something deeper to that statement. Victor could tell he didn’t want to talk about that further, and dropped it.

He wanted to know everything about Yuri. He wanted to ask him where he likes to go in his free time, what his favourite things are, what his dreams and fears are, what his favourite food is – everything, but he knew better. He could hear Yakov’s words of wisdom in his head.

Just as the lull in conversation was getting uncomfortable, Yuri spoke. ‘Are you excited for Nationals and Worlds?’

‘Yes,’ said Victor. He didn’t say more; Yuri was rubbing his napkin in between his fingers under the table and seemed to be thinking again.

Finally, he spoke, carefully and hesitantly. ‘Did… did you mean what you said about my skating?’ he asked.

‘Of course,’ Victor replied, and, knowing how much compliments meant to skaters new to major competition, he continued. ‘You skate beautifully. You have much talent and potential. You were my favourite competitor at the Grand Prix Final.’

‘Really?’ Again Yuri was shocked.

Victor couldn’t believe that Yuri didn’t know how good he was. ‘Yes. The way you move, it is entrancing.’ Victor smiled a little at the memory. ‘And your step sequences are amazing. Even Yakov was impressed, and he is almost never impressed.’

Yuri cracked a smile at him, and Victor almost melted. Yuri was so genuinely pleased to hear what he said, and Victor was thrilled to see it on him. He was ready to tell Yuri more about his skating just to keep that smile on his face, even though a part of his mind warned him that he would compliment Yuri into a blush, when Yuri’s phone chimed with a text.

Yuri looked at it. ‘My coach is outside. I have to go,’ he explained. He swallowed the last of his tea. Victor was disappointed it was over so soon.

‘Yuri,’ he said, ‘may I have your phone number? So I can call you?’

‘Sure,’ Yuri answered, acting a little shier again as he pulled out his phone. He opened a new contact page and handed the phone to Victor, who handed Yuri his.

Victor saw his name in Japanese as he typed his number in, and saw Yuri look at his name in Russian. After handing Victor his phone back and taking his, Yuri stood, sliding his phone into his pocket.

Victor stood too. ‘Yuri,’ he asked softly, tentatively, ‘may I hug you?’ He felt nervous again, and deeply hoped despite himself that Yuri wouldn’t say no.

‘Uh… sure,’ Yuri said hesitantly, looking surprised. Victor’s eyes looked so pleading that he couldn’t say no without feeling bad.

They put their arms around each other in a hug, Yuri turning his head to look out. Yuri’s hug was formal and stiff, which was no surprise to Victor, as he was technically a stranger, and Victor didn’t hold him too tightly or too closely so as not to scare him away. But Victor couldn’t help but hold Yuri in a loving embrace nonetheless, almost cradling him as if he were cherished. Victor rested his cheek lightly on Yuri’s hair, so lightly that Yuri wouldn’t feel it as his dark strands tickled Victor’s cheek. Victor shut his eyes and breathed out silently, the connection a soothing balm to his aching soul. The hug didn’t last too long, and Victor parted from Yuri reluctantly.

Yuri smiled rather awkwardly at him. ‘Goodbye Victor. Good luck at Nationals,’ he said.

He smiled back. ‘You too. Goodbye Yuri.’

Yuri turned and walked towards a side door, setting his teacup in a bus tub on the way. Victor watched him go, and when the door closed behind Yuri making his fragrance vanish, Victor felt a sudden and intense ache in his soul. He knew, with one of those rare feelings that leave you inexplicably certain, that Yuri and he could be close; they “clicked” as the Americans would say, they matched. He already liked Yuri from what he saw of him, not necessarily romantically or anything like that, just truly liked him.

_I could easily fall in love with him._ Victor thought as he watched Yuri hop into the awaiting cab.

When Victor left, he met with his coach privately and asked him to keep his soulmate a secret. Yakov looked at Victor, read whatever he needed to in his face, and agreed before telling him to go pack. When the skating group was gathered together, Victor laid into Yuri Plisetsky about what he said to the Japanese skater, leaving out exactly how he knew. Yakov was surprised at first because Victor almost never scolded his fellow skaters, but joined him once he heard what Yuri did, reprimanding him with a finesse acquired by almost thirty years of coaching. It did no good, as Victor knew it would, but he had to try and he felt better for it.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Yuri felt completely drained when he slumped into the cab. His coach politely inquired if the meeting went well, and then didn’t comment on it again at Yuri’s affirmative. It had been undeniably stressful, but not as bad as Yuri had been anticipating. Nevertheless, he was still looking forward to the hours on the plane when Celestino would sleep and he could be alone with his thoughts to think and rest.

Victor was a better person than he had imagined. He was gentle, and sensitive to Yuri, which meant a lot. He didn’t push but he remembered to ask questions that Yuri left unanswered or hanging, which showed Yuri that he was paying attention when he spoke. He was honest and kind, and seemed completely genuine when complimenting his skating, which meant more to Yuri than the legend would ever know. Victor was, in short, a perfect gentleman, with some boyish qualities that peeked through sometimes, which was one of the many reasons the media and his fans adored him.

He had surprised Yuri, which wasn’t surprising, ironically. Yuri was stunned to hear what he said about his skating and he had never expected to be a favourite competitor of _Victor Nikiforov_. Yuri coloured slightly when he remembered what Victor had said about his supposed beauty. Victor was one of the most stunning men alive, ethereal yet strong, stunning yet gentle, with blue eyes that were widely praised for their spectacular beauty. And he thought _Yuri_ was beautiful? Yuri thought that Victor must not own a mirror.

Victor had surprised him in other ways too. Yuri hadn’t expected him to be understanding, and though he felt somewhat stupid about it, it didn’t change that Yuri fully expected him to push for marriage; it was what _every_ one wanted with their soulmates; putting off marriage was rare and often frowned upon. Victor even said they didn’t have to fall in love, and that lifted a huge weight off Yuri’s shoulders; it didn’t disappear completely, Yuri expected too much to go wrong for that, but it did considerably lessen. He offered to keep it secret, Yuri hadn’t even had to ask; Victor only asked for his phone number so he could keep in touch.

Yuri felt bad for Victor. He was surprised, again, to learn that Victor was lonely and longing, that he had no family and no friends. _How could he have no friends?_ Yuri wondered, but the more he thought about it, the less impossible it seemed. Yuri himself only had two friends, Phichit and Yuko; he was too busy to meet other people, was very careful about whom he let into his life, and hadn’t met anyone he had wanted to be friends with. It wasn’t entirely unbelievable that Victor experienced something similar.

“A deep, emotionally intimate relationship,” he had said; Yuri didn’t have that, not of the depth that Victor seemed to desire. He couldn’t imagine anyone being that close to him or trusting someone that much. He thought about Victor’s request for a hug. Yuri had felt Victor’s loneliness and desperate desire to adore in his hug, but it was tempered with such gentleness that Yuri had felt safe enough not to run. Victor wanted to know Yuri, he wanted it badly, and wasn’t asking for anything else. Yuri liked what he saw of Victor, and hoped it wouldn’t change. He was still nervous about it though; Victor didn’t know how many of Yuri’s “it’s” referred to something other than marriage. He didn’t know Yuri’s true fear, and Yuri was not going to tell him, possibly not for a long time.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Worlds finished in March with Victor taking gold, making him a five-time consecutive Worlds champion as well as a five-time consecutive Grand Prix champion. Back in St. Petersburg, Victor was already putting together choreography for his short program. He had started putting them together before the skating season even ended, but he was an artist who had choreographed all his own programs since he was seventeen; not to mention he already knew all the technical moves. Practice for him meant staying in shape and able, and learning how to better express emotions, unlike the other skaters at his rink, who still needed to learn and perfect moves.

Victor had found two songs he liked for his short program. They were written as a pair, even though the themes were opposite, _In Regards to Love: Agape_ and _In Regards to Love: Eros_. Both were Greek words for different types of love.

_Agape_ was a love that respected and honored another person, it was a love that never was selfish. It was more a love of choice and action than emotion, denoting moral preference, though some of the definitions included emotion. It’s best compliment, actually, was the Greek word for love _phileo_ , a love based in emotion and that encompassed friendship and romantic love. During his research, Victor’s favourite fact about _agape_ was that it was the word used when the Bible said, “Love your enemies”; it didn’t mean _feel_ love for them, but treat them with respect and do not deny them justice; an action, showing good morals. Such a fact was useless for skating but was interesting nonetheless.

The music for _Agape_ was light and airy, innocent and pure, complimented with Latin lyrics. It told of a man who was deeply in love, and strove to be the best he could be for his lady. He eagerly awaited the day they would be reunited, and grew excited when that day grew near. His last plea was that their love would be everlasting. Victor wasn’t fond of the singer, a male child, as he thought songs about love sung by a child took away from the seriousness of it, but he could commission someone else to sing it for him. Besides, he thought that this would best be expressed by a woman, even though he imagined the song was about a man singing to his love.

_Eros_ was the word for sexual love, and there wasn’t much else to say. It wasn’t _explicitly_ lust, the Greeks had several words for that too, but it wasn’t pure. It was shallow, temporary, and carnal. The music, fast and produced by guitar and violin, told a story of a man, a playboy, who comes to town and seduces every woman he meets. Unable to seduce one woman in particular, he pours all his efforts into wooing her, and eventually she succumbs. Having attained his conquest, he tosses her aside and moves to the next town to repeat the process.

Victor wasn’t sure which he should use, so he had started putting together choreography for both. It was unusual for a skater to work with two programs for the same skate at once, but since Victor was choreographing them himself there was no one to inconvenience; he could always save one for an exhibition skate or a charity event. _Eros_ was the most different from his pieces of last season. He had skated songs of longing, and both were on the slower side, though his short program had been a bit faster than _Stay Close To Me._ _Eros_ would be newer to his audience, and it had been awhile since he had skated to something sexy. But he wanted to skate to _Agape_ , and not just because he preferred it over the two pieces in terms of music and message. He wanted to skate to it because it reminded him of Yuri.

Yuri, with the shy smile. Yuri, with the soft eyes. Yuri, with the sweet face. Yuri, who wanted to marry for love and ran when he felt trapped. Yuri, who clearly appreciated respect and boundaries. Victor wanted to skate to something of Yuri, who was on his mind constantly anyway, and he couldn’t do that with _Eros_ ; somehow, it just seemed wrong to seduce Yuri, especially when Victor felt ready to punch anyone who tried. Yuri was innocent; seduction should never touch innocence. But on the other hand, _Eros_ would surprise his audience more, which was important to Victor. So he remained undecided, putting together both as he struggled with his choice.

He had kept in touch with Yuri over the months. Yuri had given him times that worked around his schedule when he could talk in private, and Victor had the list taped to his fridge, even though most of the times were now memorized. He called almost every day, despite his busy schedule, even if it was just to say hi. They usually talked for only a few minutes, but sometimes they talked for longer, though that was rare, and only happened when Yuri was in a particularly comfortable mood. Victor usually kept the conversation going, as it was more natural for and important to him, but Yuri did his best. Little by little, Yuri became more comfortable with Victor, telling him things about his day and life in America, and asking him things about his day, and – occasionally and very shyly – for skating tips. Whenever Yuri asked for a skating tip – usually introduced with a poor nonchalance of ‘Hey, Victor’ before becoming so shy Victor could almost hear his desire to hide – Victor would feel warmth and pride in his chest, and even though he was no coach would try his hardest to tell Yuri how he executed this jump or how he shifted his balance for that step sequence. Victor was fast coming to adore Yuri, and though he wasn’t in love, he had probably taken the first step.

He smiled on the ice as he mindlessly went through a step sequence, his expression turning dreamy as he thought about his earlier conversation with Yuri. It was short, and Yuri was still disappointed with failing his Nationals, but Victor had told him something funny that Yakov had said nearly eight years ago and made Yuri laugh; Victor loved bringing him a little joy.

‘Vitya! That’s the wrong expression for that step sequence!’ Yakov hollered.

Victor looked up, suddenly pulled back to the reality of practice. He was skating _Eros_ looking like he was walking through a field filled with sunshine.

‘Sorry!’ he called back. This was another reason he practiced, so his coach could keep him on track.

‘Get a drink and pull your head out of the clouds,’ commanded his coach.

‘I’ll be fine,’ Victor replied.

‘Then practice like you mean it!’ griped his coach. Victor switched to working on _Agape._

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Yuri had finished college and had returned home to Hasetsu, Japan. He had done poorly in Nationals, unable to shake his failure at the Grand Prix, and had ended things with his coach to move back home. The months had been rough with Yuri battling depression over his failures; he wasn’t diagnosed with depression, but he could get situational depression like anyone else. He arrived home tired, just wanting to rest, and the hot springs felt glorious to his tired body. He got to visit Vicchan’s memorial shrine and say goodbye, even though it was months too late.

Victor had been calling him almost every day, and that stressed him out at first, becoming nervous whenever the times he gave him approached. All their phone calls were short, as Yuri found it difficult to get to know someone over the phone. But slowly he began to get more comfortable with it, and had even started to look forward to the phone calls towards graduation.

Celestino had agreed to keep his soulmate a secret, though he gave him a very odd look when Yuri asked. Phichit swore his continued secrecy, and did his best to make sure that Yuri had privacy for his phone calls, even though Yuri often hid in the bathroom to talk; it was really the only private place on campus.

It was very important to Yuri that his family not find out. They were very excited for the day when their children would meet their soulmates or fall in love, and would often mention to Yuri about finding someone or ask if he had his eye on someone or what he wanted in someone, and it made Yuri feel very pressured. Mari got the same treatment, but it didn’t bother her, simply rolling off her shoulders like stray raindrops. Yuri would occasionally hint that he wanted to marry for love even if he met his soulmate, or didn’t mind never marrying, or even that he disliked sexual things – though that was always subtle – and every time he was looked at with concern, told he just had to meet the right person, or was given _some_ reaction that let him know that they wouldn’t understand. Part of him wanted his family to know, but Yuri knew better. He was smarter than that.

Yuri lived in Hasetsu, Kyushu, Japan, a castle town by the sea. The “castle” had no historical basis and was a façade with a ninja house inside. The town’s sole source of tourism income was its hot springs inns, called onsens, but most went under. His family’s Yu-topia Akatsuki was the last one standing.

When he arrived home, Worlds was on the television. The televised program was an all-day event, and covered everything starting from arrivals, and the TV was left on throughout the day in the Katsuki household to watch. When Victor arrived at the rink with his coach, the announcers started extolling his accomplishments that year, informing viewers that he won the Grand Prix Final, the Russian Nationals, and the European Championships, and was in first place after the Men’s Single Short Program. As Victor walked towards the door pulling his suitcase and with his duffle bag under his arm, he reached up, took off his sunglasses, smoothly flicked his bangs out of his face, and winked at the crowd. Screams followed. It was that side of him that people loved, that playful, boyish side. Yuri, as his soulmate, felt rather inadequate in the face of such smooth confidence, but he too, as a fan, loved that side of Victor. Worlds was held in Yoyogi, Tokyo this year, and Yuri hadn’t yet told Victor he had moved back to Japan. He didn’t want any surprise visits, and he had a feeling that if Victor knew how close Yuri was he wouldn’t be able to help himself.

When the Men’s Singles came on at 7:00, Minako – Yuri’s former ballet instructor and a family friend – put the TV on lock-down and watched it with gusto and far too much drink. Yuri loved watching competitions, and had joined at the back of the room munching on snacks that his mother was always glad to provide. The camera showed Victor backstage practicing his routine, and Yuri felt disappointed that he had failed his Nationals and uncomfortable because, well… that was his soulmate. Minako lamented that Yuri hadn’t made it to Worlds, and now she couldn’t get access to the skaters’ hotel rooms. Yuri teased her about supporting him only for the other skaters, and Minako loudly defended herself. Victor skated last, and Yuri felt strangely exposed during his _Stay Close To Me_ , now that he knew the emotions expressed were real and that it was meant for him. He had looked up the lyrics when he had reached Detroit, and knew that the person being sung to in the song was, in a sense, him.

He had rolled his eyes when Minako, drunk and no longer sitting up straight, began to talk about what a “fine specimen” Victor was and how many girls around the world must be absolutely drooling right now. His mother cut off Minako’s drink after that, but it didn’t stop Minako from finishing the bottle she already had and remarking that she thought the song should be skated by someone innocent, not a “hottie” like Victor. Yuri had almost retorted that Victor _was_ innocent, though it was subtle, but without bringing up the skater’s fragrance had no way to support that statement. Yuri may have rolled his eyes, but part of him ached to know anew that this was how people viewed other people, through a lens of sexual intent. Yuri felt alone after those comments, and identified with the man in Victor’s story, alone and wishing for someone who shared his view.

Yuri had no coach at the moment and his figure skating future was murky, but he still wanted to keep skating. Victor’s words about his skating still echoed in his mind, and though it wasn’t enough to reverse his disappointment in himself, it had been enough to keep him from sinking too deeply into his depression after his failures. He had recovered from his depression now, and was back to exercising and skating more intentionally, but right now he was on his own in the figure skating world, and he wasn’t sure he could make it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a question for you: Do you like and sympathize with Victor by this point? If you don't I'm doing something wrong. If you comment, please let me know! Thanks!
> 
> Victor's meeting outfit: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/d0/fe/6c/d0fe6c5414d90be39f005adde8765315.jpg
> 
> Some of my favourite pictures of Yuri's big brown eyes: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/fc/03/19/fc031909b91cbda6a36108bbe7820aaa.jpg  
> https://i.pinimg.com/originals/87/ce/f1/87cef161c74ced0daee0f2011282810c.png  
> https://i.pinimg.com/originals/4e/66/b0/4e66b02fcbf530c176ea920a8ec0c8e3.png  
> https://78.media.tumblr.com/032bdcf30d0026df052ddf41687d1cdf/tumblr_inline_of5gcx2qAC1uwo10b_500.gif


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the lovely comments! I don't reply to individual ones very often because it is stressful and makes the comment count go up, but I love reading them! Thank you.

Only a little over a week had passed since Worlds, and Victor had asked his rinkmates to watch what he had so far of the two short programs and tell him which they thought was more like _him_. It would be another point to help him decide which he should do; even though Victor enjoyed pretending, he preferred to skate something close to his heart; they always ended up his favourite programs. The programs were mostly finished though some spots were unrefined or needed more steps, but they should have plenty to give him an assessment.

He skated _Eros_ first, and Mila (an eighteen year-old redhead who loved to bother Yuri Plisetsky) wolf-whistled at him and made a show of fanning herself when he was done. _Agape_ was second, and Yuri scowled and told him that this one was “girly trash” and that he liked the other one better; which was no help, as Victor hadn’t asked for his opinion on the pieces, but on himself. Mila preferred _Eros_ , and said it would surprise his audience more, but essentially gave Victor the same problem Yuri had. Yakov he could count on, and he came through, telling Victor that he could skate both well but that _Agape_ was closer to his personality. Georgi was also reliable. He was very sensitive to the emotions and feelings of others; indeed, if someone at the rink were bothered in any way, Georgi would notice it first, and fast. He told Victor that _Agape_ was more him. Two and two, more or less, and Victor thanked them but still felt no closer to a decision.

Yuri Katsuki had told him he had moved back to Japan and had texted him a new list of times to call. They were fewer, sadly, as living with his family made it more difficult to be alone. Victor didn’t know that the late evening times (in Japan) on the list were when Yuri was at the rink, safe and alone on the ice. Victor was concerned that Yuri had no coach, but Yuri assured him that he still wanted to skate. Victor knew however that skating on your own was very difficult, especially when you needed a coach to help you improve, as Yuri did, and he worried that Yuri would drop out.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Worlds may have been only a handful of days in the past, but Victor’s mind was already restless. Without anything important to keep his attention, his mind focused solely on Yuri. He couldn’t sit still. He was constantly drifting off into his thoughts. And he couldn’t take it anymore. He packed a suitcase and bought a plane ticket. He stayed after practice the day before his flight and told his coach that he was leaving for Japan. Yakov about had a heart attack.

‘Why would you do something as stupid as that?!’ he shouted at his student. ‘What about your career?!’

‘I could use a break. I can’t focus. Surely you’ve noticed,’ Victor replied calmly, almost innocently.

‘Lack of focus is why you have me.’ He shot Victor a piercing look. ‘This is about your soulmate, isn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ Victor replied simply, and a bit tersely.

‘What will you do in Japan?’ Yakov rumbled like a storm. ‘Stare at him?’

‘I don’t know,’ answered Victor honestly. ‘Maybe I’ll coach him. He doesn’t have a coach right now.’

‘ _You_ coach!?’ shouted Yakov incredulously. ‘You don’t know the first thing about coaching!’

‘Then I’ll learn! The important thing is that I’ll get to see him again,’ Victor retorted.

‘I thought you wanted to keep it secret!’ snapped the older man.

‘I do!’

‘And what will you say when asked why you’re coaching Katsuki, hm? That you saw him fail miserably at the Grand Prix and decided to leave your five-medal career to coach him? No journalist worth their salt will believe that; someone will find out.’ Yakov’s face was grim and frustrated.

Victor hesitated. He had no answer.

Yakov gave him a hard stare. ‘I thought you weren’t going to chase him,’ he scolded.

‘I’m not,’ Victor said defensively.

‘Vitya, running after him to Japan for no apparent reason is the most blatant act of chasing you could do!’

‘I have to see him!’ Victor shouted desperately. ‘I waited years to meet him, and I’m still waiting. This distance is killing me. I want to know him.’ He turned to walked away.

‘Vitya,’ said his coach sternly, but with a shift of understanding in his tone. Victor stopped; he might not always listen to his coach, but he always heard him. He turned his head over his shoulder, but didn’t turn all the way around.

‘Don’t go chasing after Katsuki.’ Victor opened his mouth but his coach continued with a firm voice. ‘ _Instead,_ stay in skating and invite him here, and I’ll coach him.’

Victor turned around, shocked. ‘You would do that?’

‘Yes,’ responded his coach, calmer now. ‘I know Katsuki has potential; I saw him skate too. And I don’t want you ruining your chance with your soulmate and tossing aside your career.’

Victor rushed to him and threw his arms around his shoulders. ‘Thank you!’

Yakov gave him a firm pat on the back in return. It would have been awkward for him if he had not been with Victor for the last twenty years; as it was, he was used to his sudden hugs, even though Yakov was neither a tactile nor affectionate person himself.

Victor pulled away, a smile on his face. ‘I’ll invite him in person,’ he said.

‘What!’ exclaimed Yakov gruffly.

‘I’ll be gone about a week. I promise to practice while I’m there,’ Victor continued.

Yakov grumbled to himself as Victor made his way towards the door, but he knew that it was pointless to argue with Victor on _this_ ; Victor was a study in picking one’s battles.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

When Victor landed in Hasetsu, it was evening. His first order of business was to find Yuri. He knew he should probably wait until tomorrow when he was rested, but he couldn’t; he wanted to find him now, even for only a few minutes of conversation. He didn’t know where Yuri lived, but the best place to find an ice skater was the ice rink, and Yuri spoke fondly of his. Victor wasn’t guaranteed to find Yuri today, but he was going to try.

The taxi driver knew where to drop him off, and Victor made his way up the many steps of the rink house. The sun had gone down. It was quiet when he entered, and a rather intimidating man stood behind the counter. He gave Victor a careful look before addressing him in English.

‘Sorry, sir, we’re closed. We will be open tomorrow,’ he said. His English was good, though his accent was thick.

Victor couldn’t help but be disappointed. ‘Oh. I’m sorry. I’m looking for Yuri Katsuki, do you know when he comes here?’ he asked.

‘Yuri’s here now. Do you know him?’ The man asked.

‘Yes— well I’ve met him,’ Victor answered. ‘May I see him?’

‘He’s practicing now,’ the man replied. ‘He likes to practice in private.’

‘Oh,’ said Victor. ‘When will he be done?’

‘Don’t know,’ the man replied. ‘Do you have to see him today?’

No, but that was not the point. ‘I have something important to tell him,’ Victor replied, avoiding the question.

The man tipped his head back in a short nod. He was giving him a look that Victor was very familiar with: one that said Victor looked familiar, but the person wasn’t sure of it enough to say anything. Victor enjoyed this look, usually drawing it out for as long as possible, but now decided that maybe his name was what would get him to see Yuri.

‘My name is Victor Nikiforov, by the way,’ he said.

He had the pleasure of watching the man’s eyes widen slightly. ‘The skater?’ the man asked.

Victor nodded, a smile pulling at his lips.

‘Takeshi Nishigori, I’m an instructor here,’ the man introduced himself, extending a hand for Victor to shake. Victor pulled off his glove and accepted the hand. Nishigori was a rather big man with a prominent jaw and a large chin. He was handsome in a way, and had well-styled hair, impressively thick eyebrows, and a sly, charismatic smile. A suspicious look came over Nishigori’s face when their hands parted. ‘Why do you want to see Yuri?’ he asked.

Victor did his best to placate him. ‘I have something important to tell him,’ he said again.

‘What?’ inquired the man, clearly not ready to let him see the little skater.

‘I think he should be the one to tell you, if he chooses,’ Victor replied, feeling mildly annoyed.

A beat passed while the man thought about it, then his face shifted to an agreeable expression. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Yuri doesn’t like to practice in front of strangers, so you’ll have to wait until he is done. But if you want to see him skate, you can wait in the office. His skating when he thinks no one is watching is different from his skating in competitions.’

That was intriguing. Victor’s reply was sincere. ‘I’d love to see him skate.’

‘Follow me.’ Nishigori gestured for him to follow behind the counter. Victor did so, and the instructor stopped with his hand on a doorknob. ‘I’ll let you back here if you promise to meet my wife and kids before you leave for Russia. They’re big fans,’ Nishigori explained.

Victor smiled a little, always happy to meet his fans, though nervous thoughts of Yuri were occupying his mind at the moment. ‘Of course.’

Nishigori then opened the door, and Victor entered a small office with one-way glass that looked out at the rink. He could see Yuri talking to a young woman, and hand her his glasses.

‘I’ll leave you to it,’ said Nishigori. ‘I have to find my girls.’

‘Thank you,’ Victor barely remembered to say as the door shut. There was his soulmate, skating out to the middle of the ice. Victor had waited over three months to see him again, and now there he was, adorable as ever, and wearing workout pants and a dark blue shirt with elbow-length sleeves and black gloves. He was a little pudgy, but only at the most ten pounds overweight, nothing that a little diet and exercise couldn’t fix to bring him back to an athlete’s weight. He saw Yuri take position in the centre, and had just enough time to think that his last program started the same way when Yuri started to skate.

A slow raise of the head, an arm that rose to the sky and then dropped back down as he pivoted, Victor knew these moves. They were his, the opening moves of his _Stay Close To Me._ Victor’s jaw dropped and his heart fell to the floor. Yuri was skating his program. There was no music, but Victor could hear it anyway as it followed Yuri around the ice, Yuri skating in perfect time to the song in his head. And Yuri was _good_ ; Victor knew he had talent and potential at the Grand Prix, but he didn’t know he had _this_ much. The grace and fluidity with which he moved, while excellent at the Grand Prix, were astounding now that he was comfortable. He had downgraded all the quads to triples, but he landed all the jumps, some of them flawlessly; his triple axel, with marvelous distance and height, was enviably perfect.

Of course he wasn’t all perfect, and Victor’s mind spotted all the little flaws; some of the jump landings and take-offs were a little shaky, and some parts of the step sequences were a little sloppy. It was a program by Victor Nikiforov after all, and it wasn’t easy. But, even with the flaws, Yuri made it look as effortless as Victor did.

His emotion was beautiful too. He displayed love and longing with heartfelt sweetness, and it had a different feel to it coming from Yuri, someone young and romantically naïve, though no less beautiful than Victor’s performance. Yuri skated the program with… with a _reverence_ that left Victor speechless; he felt that his program was safe with Yuri. Yuri skated like he was being very gentle with someone’s heart, and Victor, who was the main character in that song, felt _safe_. If Yuri could have managed the quads, he would have definitely medaled at the Grand Prix with this performance.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Yuri came to a stop, panting as he held the final pose, until a squeak from Yuko had him turning towards her, ready to be devastated. Was it really that bad? Yuri hadn’t thought so, but Yuko put his doubts to rest. They spoke in Japanese.

She pounded on the barrier and shouted with great enthusiasm. ‘That was so _cool_! It was a perfect copy of Victor! _Awesome_!’ She giggled, then took a deep breath. ‘I thought you’d be depressed or something,’ she said when she had calmed down.

‘I was, a little,’ Yuri answered. ‘But then I got bored of feeling depressed. So I got to thinking: I wanted to get my love for skating back, and I remembered when you and I would copy Victor.’ Yuri was going to say more when Yuko’s triplets popped their heads over the barrier, three brunette girls with more mischief in them than the rest of Japan combined, and only five-years-old.

‘My girls, Axel, Lutz, and Loop,’ Yuko reintroduced them. ‘Haven’t they grown since you last saw them?’ She was clearly a proud mom.

‘Ye-yeah,’ Yuri agreed, but their critical stares were making him nervous. The girls fired off questions at him.

‘Yuri, you gained weight!’

‘Are you really retiring?’

‘Have you ever had a girlfriend?’

‘Enough!’ shouted Yuko above the noise. ‘Sorry,’ she apologized sheepishly to Yuri, ‘my girls are such groupies.’

‘They’re all your fans, Yuri,’ came a voice as a man skated up behind Yuri. He threw his arm around Yuri’s neck. ‘Welcome back!’

‘Nishigori,’ Yuri greeted, stumbling under the weight and becoming more uncomfortable with all the contact.

‘I see you’ve gained a little weight,’ he said, pulling up Yuri’s shirt. The triplets pulled out their phones to take pictures and leapt onto the ice.

‘Hey! Stop that!’ Yuri struggled, embarrassed. Nishigori soon let him go, and wrangled his girls into submission as they slipped on the ice.

‘You can come anytime to practice,’ said Nishigori, hands on his triplets to keep them still. ‘The Nishigori family always has your back.’ The girls cheered in agreement. Yuri smiled at them all fondly.

‘Come on, girls,’ said Yuko, ‘it’s time to get you home to bed.’ That statement was met with many protests, but Yuko stood firm, and herded her girls out the door.

Nishigori slipped on his skate guards. ‘I’m going to go, but you are welcome to keep practicing,’ he said. ‘Just lock up when you’re done.’

‘Thanks,’ said Yuri. He had his own key to the rink so he could use it whenever he wanted.

‘By the way, someone’s here to see you.’ Nishigori walked back to the lobby after giving Yuri a look that made him think that the next door he walked through would be booby-trapped.

If someone were waiting to see him, then Yuri could be done practicing for the day. He slipped on his skate guards and put on his glasses. In the locker room he took off his skates, and was tying his shoes when he froze, struck by the fragrance of roses and winter woods, of purity, beauty, and power.

He looked up, and there was Victor, standing in the entryway of the locker room. He was dressed in black slacks, a white shirt with thin blue horizontal stripes spaced out on it, and a slate blue coat. He looked as gorgeous as ever, but tired. The smile he was giving Yuri was nervous and fond.

‘Victor?’ Yuri said, surprised. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Hello Yuri,’ responded Victor. ‘I have something to tell you.’

Immediately Victor could see the doubts that had been dispelled at their last meeting rushing back into Yuri’s mind. That was not good.

‘My coach offered to coach you,’ he rushed to say. ‘You would move to St. Petersburg and train under him, if you accepted.’

Yuri gaped at him. ‘Yakov Feltsman offered to coach me?’ he repeated as he sat up.

Victor nodded.

‘Why?’ Yuri was incredulous.

‘He knows you have talent. And he—’ Victor glanced behind him to make sure they were alone, ‘he knows you’re my soulmate.’

Yuri just looked at him as he processed this information. ‘So he knows I’m your s-soulmate and feels bad for you? That’s why he offered to coach me?’ he said, feeling disheartened that he wasn’t wanted for his talent.

‘Partly,’ Victor answered frankly. ‘But he would never have offered if he didn’t think you have talent; he is very particular about which skaters he takes on. He knows you have no coach, and offered to train you in St. Petersburg. He has every intent of helping you make it to the Grand Prix Final and having you medal. You could even win,’ he finished and he winked playfully at Yuri, which made him look like a boy again.

Yuri stared. ‘No one can beat you,’ he answered. His tone wasn’t disappointed, not really, because he was proud of how talented Victor was.

‘Someone could always beat me,’ Victor answered without hesitation. ‘It could be you. You have more talent than you know.’

Yuri said nothing, too embarrassed by the compliments, and bent down and finished tying his shoes. He hardly knew how he felt about his hero and soulmate being here in his hometown, hoping to take him back to _his_ hometown. Uncomfortable, nervous – _definitely_ nervous. Victor had just become fine over the phone, but in person he was still very intimidating to Yuri; now there were no thousands of miles of distance to keep him safe. Yuri felt old fears and worries rise; what if his family found out? Heaven _forbid_. He had once mentioned to his mom that he would be fine never marrying even if he met his soulmate; he would not quickly forget the concerned look on her face. Only weeks later, Yuri found himself in a therapist’s office with once-a-week appointments for the next month to talk about his fears and hesitancies about marriage. Yuri knew his mom was trying to look out for him – she thought that Yuri had been exposed to a bad experience regarding marriage – but that wasn’t the case and the whole thing was very uncomfortable; Yuri never brought up that subject bluntly again.

He could feel Victor looking at him; his gaze hadn’t wavered since he walked in. There was this odd energy coming off Victor, something longing, hopeful… and desperate? He looked a little on edge. It was a little uncomfortable, and Yuri wanted to make it go away. He stood up and put on his jacket.

‘Do you want a hug?’ he offered, turning towards Victor. His voice was steady, but the look on his face betrayed that he was nervous and that offering took courage. Yuri had always had expressive eyes.

Victor lit up with shocked delight. ‘I’d love one,’ he answered softly, and stepped forward with his arms opening.

Yuri stepped into his arms and wrapped his own around Victor’s back. It was not as awkward for Yuri as their last hug, and he held Victor with a gentle pressure. He felt Victor cradle him, one hand up high underneath his neck and the other around his mid back, holding him as close as he dared. It made him feel protected. The hug didn’t last long, just until Yuri felt that odd energy dissipate.

Yuri stepped back, glad to see that Victor looked significantly calmer, and, looking away, gathered his things and put on his coat.

‘What hotel are you staying at?’ he asked. He felt awkward; he stood with his legs close together and his shoulders a little hunched, like making himself smaller would hide him from the situation, and fidgeted with his jacket in nervousness.

Victor struggled through the pronunciation in answer. ‘Ok,’ said Yuri as he swung on his backpack. ‘Do you need to call a taxi?’

‘Yes,’ answered Victor. ‘Do you need a ride home too?’

‘No, I walk here.’

‘Really? May I walk home with you?’ Victor asked eagerly.

Yuri seemed somewhat frozen. ‘Uhh,’ he began uncertainly. His brain felt like it was short-circuiting. He had a living legend and his soulmate standing in front of him wanting to walk him home. He felt pressure.

‘You don’t have to say yes,’ Victor assured him, though he looked a little disappointed. ‘I just wanted to spend a little time with you, that’s all.’

‘Oh… it’s all right,’ Yuri said, feeling a little better after the assurance. He liked that Victor gave him the option. ‘It’ll take about twenty minutes; do you want to call and have a taxi waiting for you?’

‘That’s a good idea.’ Victor pulled out his phone and accessed the number he had been given. ‘I hope I get someone who understands English,’ he said.

‘Do you want me to call for you?’ Yuri offered. He knew how embarrassing it was to make a phone call when the other person couldn’t understand you.

Victor looked up at him. ‘That would be wonderful,’ he replied. A smile slid across his face, and he handed Yuri his phone.

Yuri made the phone call and started walking for the door as he talked. Victor followed. When Yuri hung up the phone he turned it over to see the phone case. He smirked; he thought that had looked familiar: it was the design of the jacket of Victor’s _Stay Close To Me_ costume _._

Victor noticed his gaze. ‘Yes,’ he said, looking a little sheepish and rubbing the back of his neck. ‘I couldn’t resist.’

Yuri grinned a little before handing the phone back to him, looking away. He walked through the doors, Victor at his heels, and locked them.

‘You have a key?’ Victor observed.

‘Yeah. The owners are very gracious and let me practice whenever I want. Plus, Yuko’s the manager,’ Yuri answered.

Victor nodded but said nothing. Yuri seemed completely content not to say a word the whole walk home. Victor wanted to ask more questions about Yuri’s rink and practice schedule, but was trying not to bombard Yuri with questions. But even more so, he had Yuri’s performance on his mind.

‘I saw you skate,’ he started quietly. Yuri gave him a confused look, and Victor clarified. ‘My program, _Stay Close To Me,_ I saw you skate it.’

Yuri stopped dead in his tracks and the color fled his features. ‘What?’ he choked out. ‘You saw that?!’

‘I did,’ Victor replied, starting to feel worried.

Yuri covered his face with his hands. ‘I’m so sorry!’ he said frantically. ‘I’m not presumptuous, I swear! I never would have skated that if I knew you were there!’

‘I’m glad I saw it,’ said Victor, his voice gentle to soothe Yuri. ‘It’s a beautiful program, and you’re a beautiful skater. I’m flattered you liked it enough to learn it.’

Yuri slid his hands down his face until they dropped to his sides, his mouth a thin line. His color was back in a deep blush of embarrassment and he was not meeting Victor’s eyes, instead staring away to the left.

‘I liked it Yuri, I really did. You skated it beautifully,’ Victor continued.

‘I’m still sorry,’ Yuri replied miserably.

‘Why would you be sorry?’ Victor inquired, confused and a little sad that Yuri was apologizing for skating his free skate.

‘Be— because it’s… it’s _your_ program and I… and I _know_ it’s personal to you and… and I’m your—, then I ran from you so I… I really shouldn’t be skating it. I must seem like such a cruel heartbreaker.’ Yuri had never given a more embarrassing and difficult speech in his life. He was facing away from Victor and he bowed his head a little, cheeks still red.

‘Yuri,’ said Victor, stepping closer and touching him on the shoulder. Yuri jumped, and Victor withdrew his hand with a saddened smile. ‘Don’t be sorry. I don’t think you’re a heartbreaker or cruel. I’m touched that you like my program enough to skate it even though you’re scared to have me as your soulmate. Even though you don’t personally experience the emotions in the program, you skate it with a patient, gentle understanding… it meant a lot, even though you didn’t intend for me to see it.’

Victor stared at Yuri with a soft look on his face, and Yuri stared at Victor out of the corner of his eye with anxiousness. He had no idea what to say to any of that, but he had noticed how sad Victor looked when Yuri had jumped at his touch.

‘Sorry for jumping,’ Yuri said, avoiding Victor’s speech altogether. ‘My anxiety flared, and you startled me. I can’t help it.’

‘Oh,’ was all Victor said, but his countenance lightened at knowing he wasn’t rejected for personal reasons.

Yuri started walking again, and Victor pulled his coat closed as he followed.

‘Is it normally this cold in Japan?’ he asked. He would have liked to talk about Yuri’s skating more, but decided that the poor skater had had enough stress for one evening.

‘No,’ answered Yuri. ‘We got hit by a cold front earlier today. It usually is cherry blossom season right now.’

They talked very little on the way back, with Yuri only being comfortable enough to ask about Victor’s flight and the Russian being afraid he would push Yuri away if he pressed too much after such a surprise. When they reached Yuri’s house, Victor noticed it was different from anything he had expected or seen before.

‘This is very large,’ he said, and looked up at the strange sign he couldn’t read that spanned a walkway towards the front door.

‘Oh, it’s not just a house,’ Yuri replied. ‘It’s an onsen, a hot spring resort. My family owns it and we live in one part and house guests in another.’

‘Guests can stay here?’ asked Victor, suddenly interested.

Yuri gave him a strange look for his sudden change in tone. ‘Yeah, they stay and use the baths. Sometimes they stay as a vacation, sometimes just for the day.’

Victor stared at the door, struck with an idea. ‘May I stay here?’ he asked. ‘Do you have rooms open?’

‘Uh, I think so,’ replied Yuri, getting nervous again. ‘You’d have to ask my mom.’

Victor turned to Yuri. ‘I’d love to stay here,’ he said, his eyes filling with hope. ‘I could get to know you better.’

Yuri swallowed. ‘Ok,’ he said timidly. ‘Come on in.’ He led the way inside. _How in the world do I explain this to my parents?_ He fretted.

‘Hey Mom?’ he called, still in English. ‘There’s a new guest.’

‘So late? That’s very unusual,’ answered a female voice from the back in the same language. A moment later, Mrs. Katsuki walked in. She was a rather heavy, short woman with chin-length brown hair and circular glasses and a kind, warm face.

‘Oh!’ she exclaimed when she saw him. ‘You look just like a figure skater my son admires!’ she said to Victor.

Victor smiled widely at her and Yuri was embarrassed. ‘Mom, this is that figure skater. This is Victor Nikiforov. Victor, this is my mom, Hiroko Katsuki,’ he said.

Victor noticed that Yuri was nervous, and remembered that his family didn’t know about Yuri’s soulmate. He decided to take control of the situation.

‘Hello,’ he said, pulling off his glove and extending his hand with a pleasant smile. She took it. ‘It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Katsuki. I come from Russia with an invitation from my coach: he wants to coach Yuri.’

Yuri felt some relief as Victor took care of the explanation for him.

‘Oh call me Hiroko,’ she said as she beamed at him. ‘And really? Your coach wants to coach my Yuri?’

‘Yes,’ Victor replied. ‘He noticed Yuri’s talent at the Grand Prix and learnt he doesn’t have a coach anymore. He thinks he has amazing potential and offered to coach him.’

‘That’s wonderful! Yuri, isn’t that wonderful?’ Hiroko turned towards her son who looked like he would rather disappear than stay here a moment longer.

‘Yes!’ Yuri answered with too much volume to compensate his nervousness.

His mom wisely turned the conversation back to herself. ‘Well, why don’t we check you in? You want to stay here, yes? I think it would be wonderful.’

‘I do. I need to get my bags though; I had already checked into a hotel when I met Yuri,’ Victor replied. He was going to like her; she was the perfect mix of customer service and motherly affection.

‘Oh of course. You get your bags and hurry up. We’ll have a room waiting for you when you get back,’ she said.

‘ _Arigato_ ,’ Victor said. She beamed at him. ‘I’ll be back.’ He looked at Yuri one last time before he walked out the door and to the awaiting taxi.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

When Victor returned, a room was ready for him and Hiroko ushered him to it while telling him he was welcome to come out to the main room and have tea. He shed his coat and shoes, hung up his shirts and trousers from his suitcase, and returned to the main room. Yuri was there, sitting on the floor sipping tea from a small teacup that didn’t have a handle. He had bathed and changed clothes, now wearing grey lounge pants and a sweater that was grey at the top and black at the bottom. Hiroko was there too, fussing with a plant at the back of the room.

‘Yuri,’ he said as he sat down. Yuri looked up at him. ‘Do you serve food here? I’m hungry, I didn’t eat supper.’

‘Uh yeah, what would you like?’ Yuri responded, looking a little nervous. The Russian wished he would relax, but figured he would just have to be patient.

Victor by no means knew Japanese cuisine well enough to order without a menu. ‘What’s your favourite, Yuri? If we’re going to be rink mates, I should get to know you a little, _da_?’ The last part was said mostly for his mom’s benefit, to hide why Victor was so interested in Yuri, even extending to his favourite food.

Yuri felt himself colour a little, but he answered easily. _Finally, something easy._ He thought. He explained what katsudon is, and Victor, who as it turned out was a foodie, was eager to try it. Hiroko soon brought out the dish, breaded pork strips fried in egg and served over rice sprinkled with scallions.

‘Wow, this smells wonderful,’ Victor said when she set it in front of him.

‘Wait until you taste it,’ said she and sat back down with all the confidence of a cook who knew their food was exceptional.

Victor tasted it. ‘ _Vkusno_!’ he exclaimed. ‘This is wonderful!’

‘Thank you,’ Hiroko responded, clearly pleased.

Yuri had been nervous that Victor wouldn’t like the food he suggested. It was always minorly nerve-wracking to possibly be responsible for someone else’s bad meal.

‘I’m glad you like it,’ said Yuri, looking down and fidgeting cutely: he rubbed his hands in his lap, causing his shoulders to wiggle. Victor’s eyes kept flicking to Yuri every few seconds; he hadn’t seen him in months, and he couldn’t get enough. He tried to stop – what if Yuri’s mother noticed? – but he couldn’t. They were both saved from certain embarrassment by Hiroko, who asked after the offer.

‘Yakov – my coach – wants Yuri to come to St. Petersburg and train under him. He thinks Yuri has great potential. He would have him enter the Grand Prix Final this year,’ Victor explained, grateful that she said something and directed his attention.

‘How much does he charge? I mean— not to be rude, but we aren’t rich,’ asked Yuri. Victor answered that Yakov was very reasonable.

Yuri continued asking questions, including how Yakov coached, when would he go to St. Petersburg, and if anyone else would understand English. Victor answered all his questions, and explained that Yuri could live in Russia while he got his visa, and that while many Russians did not speak English, everyone at the rink did. Victor noticed that Yuri became more comfortable quickly; this was his home, his space where he knew everything, and the topic was neutral and lent itself to questions easily. Victor was glad that Yuri wanted to ask questions, because now Victor could look at him all he liked and no one would think it strange. Yuri was very beautiful, in his cute way. His eyes held a pleasing innocence even when discussing business. His beautiful, big brown eyes. Wow. Victor had almost forgotten how beautiful they were.

‘Where would I live?’ Yuri asked. ‘I lived in a dorm in Detroit, but that was part of the school.’

‘There are flat buildings near the rink, about a ten minute drive. They are across the street from mine, I’m sure they would have one for sale,’ Victor answered.

‘So they are apartments you buy?’ Yuri asked to clarify.

‘Yes, but there are flats available for rent,’ Victor answered. ‘But the ones across from me are for purchase.’

There was a short pause, and Hiroko brought out some fresh tea and insisted that Victor have a cup.

‘So,’ continued Yuri once they had full cups of tea, ‘do they let you pay in installments? I can’t afford anything outright.’

‘Yes,’ said Victor. ‘They do.’

Yuri went on to ask if he knew how he could get an apartment and where he could stay in the meantime. Victor said he could call and ask for a walkthrough date, as the landlord surely spoke only Russian. He didn’t tell Yuri that he had investigated the building across the street from his the day Yakov said Yuri could come and had asked them to hold a room. He did tell him that if an apartment weren’t available when Yuri came to Russia, he would stay with Yakov until he found one, however that meant he would also live with Yuri Plisetsky.

They talked and discussed for an hour, and then Yuri said he wanted to tell his mom and dad – who had joined them partway through – but he was going to speak in Japanese since they didn’t have enough vocabulary to speak in English. Victor said he didn’t mind, and sipped the last of his tea.

Victor was tired; he flew fourteen hours today and had a poor night’s sleep from getting up so early the previous morning. He rested his head in his hand, his elbow propped up on the table, and let his eyes shut. He didn’t plan on falling asleep, but his stomach was full of good food, he was warm from the tea, and his soulmate’s lovely fragrance was drifting through his nose.

Yuri looked over at Victor when he finished talking to his parents. The legend’s eyes were shut, and he looked mostly asleep, in that space where a person was asleep enough not to be fully aware of what was around them, but awake enough not to fall over. He looked sweet with his face relaxed and his bangs spilling over his hand, and younger than he was, even with the bags under his eyes.

Hiroko nudged her son. ‘Send him to bed,’ she said quietly as she started gathering up the tea things.

Yuri stood and walked to Victor’s side of the table, leaning over. He placed a hand on his shoulder and shook it a little. ‘Hey, Victor,’ he said in a hushed voice. ‘Victor.’

Victor slowly looked up at him, eyes bleary. ‘Yuri,’ he acknowledged.

Yuri removed his hand. ‘Go to bed,’ he said quietly.

‘Oh. Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep,’ Victor said as he got up, his voice already scratchy from tiredness.

‘It’s ok. We understand jetlag and long trips,’ Yuri assured him. Victor smiled sleepily at him as he slowly walked for the hall.

‘Goodnight, Victor,’ said Yuri.

‘Goodnight, Yuri.’

‘Goodnight, Vicchan!’ called Hiroko with a smile as Victor started to disappear down the hall.

Victor turned, though he looked a little confused. ‘Goodnight, Hiroko,’ he bade, then went to his room for blissful sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so everyone knows, foreign words should be italicized; that doesn't mean they are stressed. Just hoping to clear up any confusion.

Japan was ahead of Russia by six hours, and Victor slept in until almost eight thirty. He had decided that catching up on sleep was more important than being at the rink at his usual practice time. He got ready when he woke, and went looking for breakfast. He was dressed in black workout pants and a black v-neck tee. As he was putting his dishes in a bus tub, he was met by someone he didn’t know coming out of the kitchen.

‘So you’re the famous Victor Nikiforov, huh?’ said a girl with a bored tone. She was thirty years-old and had short hair, half of which was unfortunately dyed blonde. It was back in a headband, showing multiple piercings in her ears.

‘Yes, who are you?’ asked Victor, feeling confused by her tone. She wasn’t a fan, but she seemed interested in talking to him.

‘I’m Mari, Yuri’s sister,’ she answered.

‘Oh, it’s a pleasure to meet you,’ Victor said, happy to meet more of Yuri’s family.

‘Likewise. It’s nice to finally see you in person,’ Mari replied.

‘Excuse me?’

‘So Yuri tells me that you’re here to tell him your coach wants to coach him,’ she said, and leaned against the doorframe.

‘Yes,’ Victor said.

She gave him a look like both he and his coach were stupid, and perhaps her gaze was a little scrutinizing as well. ‘Wouldn’t a letter or an e-mail have worked?’

Victor felt nervous, but he didn’t let it show as he scrambled for an answer. ‘Well, yes. But I wanted to surprise him, and I heard Yuri was shy, so I thought he might need some convincing in person.’ He hoped that would convince her; besides, it was mostly true.

‘Hm,’ Mari answered as she nodded. She seemed convinced. ‘Well, do you need a tour of the onsen? You arrived rather late,’ she offered.

‘Ah, not now,’ Victor answered her. ‘I am going to practice. I was going to invite Yuri; do you know where he is?’

‘He’s at the rink already. Do you know how to get there?’

‘Not really,’ Victor replied. Mari gave him directions; it was very easy, only a couple turns and across a bridge. Victor thanked her, grabbed his backpack, and left.

When he arrived Nishigori was at the desk again. He refused to let Victor pay for the day, saying that he was a guest of Yuri. Victor said he would give the ice rink a good word on Instagram, and Nishigori advised him to wait until he left because Yuri would dislike reporters swarming his safe spot when he had a big decision to make.

Victor stretched, put on his skates, and headed through the doors towards the ice as he mentally braced himself for the fragrance, Nishigori on his heels.

‘Mom! Victor Nikiforov!’ three little voices shrieked.

Victor smiled wide and he spotted three identical girls practically jumping up and down with excitement. Their mom was behind them, a petite lady with reddish brown hair and a pretty face.

‘Oh my _gosh_ , _Victor Nikiforov_! I thought Takeshi was fooling me until Yuri said you were here! It is such an honor to meet you!’ she gushed.

‘The honor is mine,’ said Victor, beaming at her as he held out his hand. ‘What is your name?’

‘I’m Yuko Nishigori, and these are my girls, Axel, Lutz, and Loop. We’re all big fans,’ she replied, practically shining.

‘It’s a pleasure to meet you all,’ Victor responded, and bent down to shake hands with Yuko’s children. They gaped at him, their eyes wide as saucers as they dumbly shook his hand. Their father chuckled.

‘They couldn’t believe it when I told them. They wanted to go straight to Yu-Topia last night to prove it,’ Nishigori said to Victor.

Then the girls recovered.

‘Wow! Victor Nikiforov!’

‘You’re amazing!’

‘Can we have an autograph?’

‘And a photo!’

‘Are you going to skate for us?’

‘Girls!’ hollered Yuko. ‘Sorry, they’re _really_ big fans,’ she apologized, embarrassed.

Yuri chuckled, and Victor’s eyes, which had found him immediately upon entering, now landed on him fully. He was wearing black workout pants and a dark red shirt. His glasses were off. He was standing on the ice, cheeks pink from the cold and the exercise he had already gotten, and a small smile on his face. Yuri’s eyes met Victor’s, and Yuri quickly looked at the wall.

Victor forced his eyes to Yuko. ‘That’s all right,’ he said with a smile. ‘I am used to excited fans.’ He looked at the girls. ‘Of course you may have autographs and photos. Would you like them now?’

‘Yes!’ It was unanimous. The triplets pulled out a cell phone, a camera, and a notebook and pen. Victor knelt down with the girls and Yuko took photos, then Yuri took photos with Yuko in the pictures. Victor signed the notebook, once for each girl. He noticed that the cell phone case was the Russian flag with him on it in a costume from a couple years back.

‘So Yuri tells me that Yakov Feltsman offered to coach him,’ Yuko said. ‘It’s so nice of you to deliver the offer in person. I can’t wait till he starts training with you.’

‘Yuko, I haven’t accepted the offer yet,’ Yuri said, sounding a little embarrassed.

‘Well, you need to hurry up and do that,’ she insisted.

‘It’s a big decision; I want to think about it for a few days,’ Yuri defended.

‘That’s all right,’ Victor said to put him at ease. Yuri didn’t know that if he didn’t accept it, Victor would be staying right here to coach him himself; anything to be with Yuri.

‘Well I’m sure you want to practice, right? Go right ahead. Do you mind if we watch?’ Yuko asked.

‘Not at all,’ Victor replied as he took off his skate guards and stepped onto the ice. They wouldn’t be watching every day, and Victor could easily practice with an audience.

‘Will you skate something for us?’ asked the girl dressed in purple as three pairs of eyes peered over the barrier. It was almost a demand. They were surely little imps.                                                                       

‘Uh.’ Victor laughed a little. ‘Sure. Is there anything you would like to see?’

‘Skate _Stay Close To Me_!’ demanded the one in blue.

‘Yeah!’ said the others.

‘Girls!’ hissed Yuko. ‘Have some shame!’

‘But Mommy, you want to see it too,’ the pink one whined.

Nishigori laughed. ‘Busted,’ he said. Yuko blew out her nose at him like a small dragon.

Victor stole a glance at Yuri. He was looking straight ahead at the wall, resolutely not looking at Victor. Victor didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but Yuri’s face was blank and impossible to read.

Victor leaned his hands on the barrier. ‘What do you think, Yuri? Are they big enough fans?’ His tone was slightly teasing, but he asked to see if Yuri gave his approval. If he didn’t, Victor would offer to skate something else; he had plenty of record-breaking routines to choose from.

The girls insisted that they were. Yuri looked thoughtfully at them. ‘Hmmm,’ he said, playing along. Victor grinned.

‘Yuri! We are! Tell him we are!’

Yuri failed miserably at keeping his smile off his face. ‘Yes, they are,’ he answered as he grabbed his skate guards. ‘We – uh – we all would like to see you skate in person,’ he finished shyly, head down as he put on his guards.

Victor smiled a closed-mouth smile as he pushed off to take a lap around the rink. He was glad he had not scared Yuri off and that Yuri wanted to see him skate. But as he tested the rink, he knew he wouldn’t skate it with all the accompanying emotion, he would just skate the choreography. Yuri might be uncomfortable with the entire performance, and Victor didn’t trust himself to skate the whole thing and be able to keep his eyes from straying to Yuri, risking giving away their connection and driving Yuri away. He also didn’t feel like pouring out his heart right now.

Yuko put on the music for the skate, and soon Victor was gliding across the ice. Yuri had pulled on his sweat jacket and joined the others to lean against the barrier. Victor was absolutely _spectacular_. Even without the emotional component of the skate, Yuri’s attention was arrested. He was glad Victor wasn’t skating the emotional component, because he wasn’t sure he would have been able to watch otherwise. Besides, this whole thing was uncomfortable enough.

‘Wow!’ exclaimed Yuko in a watery voice. ‘A quadruple flip!’ She had tears in her eyes.

‘I got this, Mom!’ assured one of her daughters. She was snapping pictures with a camera.

‘I’ll take the video!’ informed the one holding the video camera.

‘May I upload this?’ asked the one with the cell phone.

‘It’s not for the public, you skating _otaku_ trio!’ scolded Yuri exasperatedly. The girls didn’t say anything, but they were hardly chastened.

Yuri went back to watching Victor. It was truly a privilege to watch him skate up close and in person. He was so incredibly talented. And he was beautiful too; Yuri had never been blind to that. It was one of the things he loved and admired about Victor.

Victor had the perfect form for a figure skater: slender, with a small frame that belied his physical strength. His slenderness – narrow shoulders, narrow chest, narrow waist, narrow hips – made him appear taller than he was, and the effect was very elegant. He was strong, but his muscles didn’t bulge around his body, and this contributed to his ethereal appearance. He had porcelain skin so pale and smooth it seemed to glow. His hair was that wonderful rare colour of platinum, and looked silky soft. He had a beautiful face, and his eyes; oh, his eyes. They were beautiful. Victor was mesmerizing. Yuri loved looking at him.

Victor struck his final pose and everyone burst into clapping. His eyes first landed on Yuri for his reaction, and found him smiling, looking amazed and shy at once. Victor bowed for his audience and skated towards the barrier.

‘That was amazing!’ said Yuko. ‘It was a dream come true.’

Victor smiled at her. ‘Thank you,’ he said. He turned towards Yuri. ‘Are you going to practice too, Yuri?’ he asked.

‘Me?’ Yuri asked, surprised. ‘Practice with you?’

‘Yes. I promised Yakov I would practice while I’m gone. We could practice together.’ _Please say yes. Please let me spend time with you._ He begged in his mind.

‘I – um – sure!’ Yuri said, agitated. He wanted to practice with Victor, he did want to get to know him too, but the man was a living legend and, even scarier, his soulmate. Yuri pulled off his sweat jacket and removed his skate guards nervously. _I’ve spent years trying to catch up to him,_ Yuri thought, _and now I’m going to practice with him._

He turned towards the triplets. ‘No filming and no pictures,’ he told them.

‘Aw! But Yuri—!’

‘Girls, put them away,’ commanded Nishigori. They whined a little more before putting away their electronics.

Yuri took off his glasses and turned around. He avoided Victor’s eyes and took off on a lap around the rink for something to do. Victor followed.

They skated for several hours. Victor never strayed far from Yuri, sometimes talking sometimes not, and Yuri slowly got used to having Victor on the ice with him. Victor was considerate and kind, and Yuri almost felt comfortable by the end. Victor, for his part, loved being with Yuri and watching him skate. Yuri moved gracefully and was very receptive to instructions when Victor gave them. Whenever Victor would complement him he would blush a little.

It was nearly two o’clock when they finished. Victor was starving, and was eagerly thinking of what might be for lunch back at the onsen. The two skaters were packing their bags and putting on their jackets when Yuri spoke up.

‘Victor,’ he said. Victor looked up. ‘Would you mind going to Minako’s snack bar with me? She’s a big fan; she would kill me if I didn’t tell her you were in town.’

‘Sure,’ Victor replied. ‘But I want to eat something first; I’m famished.’ He swung his bag over his shoulder.

‘We can eat there, it’s a snack bar. She has light meals.’ He sounded a little shy to be asking.

Victor balked at the idea of going out to eat in workout clothes. ‘Is it appropriate to go out to eat dressed like this?’

‘Yeah. There won’t be many people there now anyway.’ Then he clued in on Victor’s hesitance and started talking at warp speed. ‘You don’t have to! At all! I can text her! We can go home and eat there and Minako—’

‘Yuri,’ Victor stopped him, fighting to keep his grin small, ‘I’d love to meet your friend. It’s just that in Russia we always dress nicely when going out, even if it is to the grocery store. Your culture is very odd.’

‘Oh, ok. Yeah it is, I guess,’ said Yuri, fidgeting with his hands. ‘But Russia is odd too. I shook the hand of the taxi driver and he looked at me like I was a heathen.’ They walked towards the doors and out into the crisp air.

‘Did you have your gloves on?’ Victor asked.

‘My gloves? Yeah, it was cold.’

‘In Russia it is impolite to shake someone’s hand with gloves on,’ Victor explained.

‘Oh,’ said Yuri. ‘I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to be rude.’

‘It’s all right,’ Victor told him as he followed Yuri down the steps. When they reached the bottom Yuri headed towards Minako’s snack bar, once again perfectly content to say nothing. He ended up explaining all the sights along the way though, at Victor’s questioning.

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Minako’s snack bar was a shop within a building, darkly decorated with a small bar and bar stools in the back with a cabinet full of dishes behind it. When Yuri and Victor entered, Victor noticed a large poster of Yuri skating on the wall to their left, the same he had seen in the airport. Yuri resolutely did not look at it; he thought it was embarrassing. There was only one other person there, and standing behind the bar was a beautiful woman with brown hair and a smart jacket, wearing bright red lipstick.

‘Hi, Minako,’ Yuri greeted in English to let her know that she needed to use the same language. The woman turned around. Her eyes landed on Victor and bugged out of her head.

‘ _Victor_ _Nikiforov_?!’ she screeched, and Victor snapped to attention as if his mother were alive again. Yuri winced.

‘What are yo—!… how!’ She gawked a moment, then her eyes fixed on Yuri. ‘ _Katsuki Yuri_!’ she bellowed with all the force of a mighty dragon. ‘What is _Victor Nikiforov_ doing in _my_ _bar_?!’

Yuri gave her a weak and nervous smile, but answered nonetheless. ‘I thought you would like to meet him,’ he stated simply, while simultaneously explaining nothing.

Minako turned back to Victor and gaped. Victor had long since recovered and flashed her an amused and happy smile and winked at her.

‘Wow, this is awesome! I can’t believe you’re really here,’ she said in a high and breathy voice as she came out from behind the counter. She stuck out her hand. ‘I’m Minako Okukawa. It is amazing to meet you.’

‘The pleasure is mine,’ he answered, and he brought her hand halfway to his lips and bent to kiss it like a proper gentleman.

‘ _Oh my_ ,’ said Minako, and she fanned herself dramatically. Yuri slid his hand into his bangs and facepalmed. Victor chuckled softly.

‘Minako, we’re going to eat,’ Yuri informed her. This was very uncomfortable.

‘All right, but first—’ she pointed a finger at Victor, ‘I want a photo.’

He smiled at her. ‘Of course.’

Yuri took the photo, and after they were sat at the bar with menus in their hands. Yuri explained what the meals were to Victor, and which ones were his favourites. Victor felt awkward eating out in his workout clothes, especially since Minako was so nicely dressed, but no one else seemed to mind. As soon as they had ordered and had their food in front of them, Minako pounced on them with questions.

‘So why are you here?’ she asked, leaning on the bar.

Since Yuri had just put his chopsticks into his mouth, Victor answered. ‘Yakov offered to coach Yuri. I’m here to tell him.’

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. ‘Wouldn’t a letter have worked?’

Victor glanced at Yuri and did not miss the look of intense worry that flashed across his face. Yuri felt his stomach drop.

Victor leaned on the counter causally as he poked his chopsticks into his food. ‘I heard Yuri was shy and would need some convincing,’ he answered. Yuri’s stomach relaxed.

‘You got that right,’ Minako deadpanned.

‘Minako!’ hissed Yuri. ‘That’s embarrassing!’

‘What? You are shy,’ she responded.

‘So how do you know each other?’ Victor asked, changing the subject. Yuri was relieved.

Between the two of them, Yuri and Minako told Victor how they knew each other. Minako was a famous ballerina, and had travelled the word before retiring and opening a ballet studio in Hasetsu. When Yuri had been little he had spent more time in her studio than at home, and she was the one who nudged him towards competitive skating; he had been skating since he was just a little guy, but only for fun. Minako told Victor that Yuri was an adorable little kid, and that he should see some of his chubby baby pictures and ratted him out for gaining weight easily. Yuri turned bright pink.

‘I took ballet when I was young,’ Victor said. ‘Yakov’s wife was Lilia Baranovskaya, and she insisted I learn to help my skating.’

‘You learnt ballet from Lilia Baranovskaya?!’ shrieked Minako. Yuri smirked a little as Victor nodded. ‘I love her!’ continued Minako. ‘What was she like?’

‘Strict,’ Victor answered without even thinking about it. ‘And severe. When I thought it was good she thought it was awful. But she didn’t let you get away with anything less than perfect. I owe much of my success to her.’

They talked for a while longer about their various ballet experiences. Then Yuri said they should get home, and the two boys bid goodbye to Minako and walked home.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Yuri disappeared into his room straightaway when they arrived at the onsen, and Victor asked Hiroko to tell him how to use the baths. It was a new experience; Victor had never bathed with others before, but Hiroko was excellent at explaining things to foreigners, and soon Victor was scrubbed clean and walking from the wash room and to the waters outside. He placed his towel within reach and slid into the warm water. It was almost heavenly; the warmth felt good on his tired muscles. He was the only one in the outside water at the moment. It was late afternoon.

He was alone probably fifteen minutes before he smelled rain and honeysuckle. He smiled slowly, but didn’t think too much of it, his mind slightly hazy from the warm water.

‘Oh.’

Victor opened his eyes to see Yuri standing there with his towel around his waist, glasses off and squinting at him.

Victor’s face lit up. ‘Hello, Yuri,’ he greeted. He sat up a little straighter, openly eager, hoping Yuri would join him. Yuri flashed him a little uncomfortable smile in reply.

Yuri stood at the end of the pool, rubbing the towel in between his fingers and not meeting Victor’s eyes.

Victor noticed his hesitance. ‘Are you going to get in?’ he prompted. He couldn’t help his eagerness. He hadn’t had him all to himself today because skating focused on practice and the Nishigoris watched, and lunch had included Minako, so Victor was eager to spend time with just Yuri.

‘Um, I… w-well—,’ Yuri spluttered. He should have known Victor would be in the baths. It would be rude to walk away now, Yuri knew, but he really didn’t want Victor to see him naked. Yuri was comfortable being naked in the bath around others – in Japan bathing was a public affair – but Victor was his soulmate; Victor was the person with a high probability of falling in love with him and that thought made Yuri nervous that he would be lusted after. That freaked him out. He didn’t want that.

Victor’s face fell a little. ‘You don’t have to bathe with me if you don’t want to,’ he said, but his voice betrayed his disappointment.

‘No no, it’s not that,’ Yuri assured him. ‘I just… I don’t want you to see me naked,’ he confessed quietly as he flamed red all the way up to his ears. He looked down at his toes and then up through his bangs to try to see the legendary skater’s reaction.

Victor smiled a little, closed his eyes, and then covered them with his hand. He should have guessed; of course someone as anxious and shy as Yuri wouldn’t want a practical stranger to see him naked. Victor heard movement in the water.

‘Ok, you can open now,’ Yuri told him. Victor opened his eyes. Yuri was sitting next to him with about a person’s width of space in between them, the cloudy water keeping them covered.

Yuri didn’t say anything; he was too uncomfortable right now to strike up a conversation. Yuri didn’t mind silence, he liked the opportunity to be with his own thoughts. Many people felt the need to fill silence, finding it awkward, but Yuri didn’t. He ran his wet hands through his hair, slicking back his bangs, and watched the steam rise from the water. It had a similar effect of staring into a fire in a fireplace.

Victor, for his part, watched Yuri. He had gotten to see and notice more of Yuri today. Yuri was short, a full three inches shorter than Victor, but his body was beautifully proportioned to his height, and he was small. He had smooth-looking skin, an elegant neck, and a nip in his waist even with his chubbiness. His cheeks were chubby now, making him even more soft and round, accented further by his cute button nose. That cute button nose – Victor had noticed throughout the day – blushed with Yuri’s cheeks, turning pink or red. He was adorable. Victor felt no lust as he regarded him silently, just growing admiration.

They stayed like that for several minutes before Yuri got the courage to speak.

‘So, um, did you really come to Hasetsu to convince me to train in St. Petersburg?’ he asked quietly.

‘It’s only part of the reason,’ Victor answered. ‘The main reason is that I wanted to see you. The invitation merely gave me the opportunity.’ Yuri nodded his head, eyes still on the water. ‘Your family and friends need an explanation though; I guess not everyone knows I’m a little eccentric,’ he continued.

The corner of Yuri’s mouth quirked up a little. He had always loved that quality, and had laughed over Victor Nikiforov’s exploits with Yuko several times.

‘Last night,’ Yuri said, turning his head to look at Victor, ‘you said something when you tasted my mom’s katsudon. _Kuno_?’ He was unsure.

‘ _Vkusno_ ,’ Victor corrected.

‘ _Vkusno_. What does that mean?’ he asked.

Victor was delighted that Yuri was interested in his home language. ‘It means delicious,’ he answered.

Yuri's eyes took on a shine of interest, and he asked another question. ‘What is Russia like?’

Victor scooted a little closer. ‘It is beautiful, in its own way. Much of Russia has a bleak beauty. It is pleasant in summer and people wear shorts and skirts, though it is very cold in winter, and always cold in Siberia. St. Petersburg is on the Gulf of Finland in the Baltic Sea, and it is pleasant to go down to the water. Sometimes in the early morning I can hear the cry of the gulls from my bedroom. St. Petersburg is also very big, very populous, very easy to get lost in if you are unfamiliar with the place,’ Victor answered him. Yuri was looking straight at him, soaking up the information like a sponge, and Victor soaked up the view of his adorable face and big brown eyes. ‘What do you think of when you first think of Russia, Yuri?’ he asked.

‘Mysterious,’ Yuri blurted, then his ears turned pink. ‘I— yeah.’ He looked back at the water, to Victor’s mild disappointment.

Victor wanted to get to know Yuri, and he wanted him to be comfortable. Yuri wasn’t readily sharing information about himself, and Victor decided that the best way to make Yuri comfortable was to take the burden of communication off him. So he launched into a lengthy soliloquy about Russia, its people, the places he had been there, and any customs he could think of that would be foreign to Yuri. He talked about what Yakov was like as a person and coach, and what his rink mates were like.

It worked. Soon he had Yuri looking at him again, fully engrossed in what he was saying; Yuri didn’t say much, but he was an excellent listener. When Victor started talking about customs, he noticed that Yuri looked like he wanted to say something, so he paused a little after describing the subjects to give Yuri a chance to say something without having to interrupt. Yuri took the chances, interjecting bits about his own customs that were odd or different, or asking for reasons-why that Victor didn’t even know he had. So Victor also learnt a little more about Yuri’s culture, and though he wanted to know Yuri personally, his culture was part of him and Victor was happy to learn.

They talked for a little over two hours. With dinner in about an hour, they decided to get out. Yuri made to stand and then stopped. Victor closed his eyes and Yuri got out, telling Victor when he had his towel around his waist. When Victor got out Yuri kept his back to him, but waited so they could walk in together.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Yuri had enjoyed listening to Victor talk. He had been curious about Russia for years, but Google can only get a person so far and there was nothing like an insider’s perspective. Victor was an animated talker and had thought deeply about his country, making him a very interesting interlocutor.

Yuri had picked up on Victor’s pauses so he could talk; no one had ever done that before, paid attention to him closely enough that they noticed he had something to say and wanted to hear it. He was grateful – and surprised – when Victor shut his eyes so he could get into the baths; it meant a lot to Yuri to be respected like that. Even though his whole relationship with his soulmate was frightening, Victor was showing himself to be a good man. Yuri propounded, though he knew it was a preliminary thought, that Victor was as beautiful on the inside as he was on the outside.

Once he finished drying off, he dressed in comfortable and clean track clothes and went to the living room. The television was on when he walked out, replaying the Worlds’ Championships with specials interspersed. Yuri sat down to watch it, and an interview with Otabek Altin was on when Victor walked out. He was dressed in nice lounge clothes, and sat down next to Yuri to watch. Most skaters didn’t get to see interviews until later during highlights or by searching for them specifically.

They watched the program through dinner, and Yuri became more engrossed as the show progressed. Later, when dinner was over and guests were sitting at the low tables sipping sake, a special feature titled “Rising Star in Russia: Yuri Plisetsky” came on. Yuri shifted in his seat as the camera showed the outside of Victor’s rink. This is where he might be going. The camera now cut to the inside, and Yuri Plisetsky could be seen talking to Coach Yakov. Another cut and Yuri was executing a quadruple toe loop.

‘Woah! Did you see that jump?!’ Yuri exclaimed, more to himself than anyone else. ‘No, two jumps!’ He was leaning over the table, eyes wide and mouth open. Victor smiled a little.

Then Yuri Plisetsky was shown leaning on the barrier, right next to Victor on the screen. The commentator said that Plisetsky would be joining Victor Nikiforov in ushering Russia into an era with two champions, and suddenly Yuri remembered.

_“Incompetents like you should just retire.”_ This was the kid who had lambasted him in the bathroom. Yuri’s body language changed, he felt slightly mortified, but he didn’t want to quit.

Yuri was quieter after that, more subdued. He excused himself when the program was over and went to his room.

Yuri sat on his floor with his back leaning against his bed. He weighed the pros and cons of moving to St. Petersburg, of training alongside his soulmate, and came to a decision. He wanted to keep skating, and here was a chance to do so with a coach who trained not only excellent skaters but also the most famous skater in the world. Not only that, but Yuri still admired Victor and looked up to him; he didn’t want the only time they competed on the same ice to be when he failed. And he wasn’t going to be shown up by a punk kid.

_The pressure’s on now._ Yuri thought as he stared at all his Victor Nikiforov posters. _I’ve got to skate on the same ice as Victor again someday._ His phone chimed with a text. It was Nishigori. Nishigori rarely texted him. He opened the thumbnail link.

‘WHAT?!’ Yuri screeched. Staring back at him was a video with his own face as the poster screen, with the title “[Katsuki Yuri] Tried to Skate Victor’s FS Program [Stay Close To Me]”.

Nishigori called him right after he sent the text. ‘I— I’m sorry, Yuri,’ he said, and Yuri could hear the cringe in his voice. ‘My kids uploaded the video, and it went viral.’

Yuri was nearly shaking with stress, and he could hear Yuko shouting in the background and demanding that the girls delete the video; it was a mad house over there. Yuri knew that if a video was viral deleting it would do little good, as it had already been posted and saved around the world.

‘Goodnight,’ Yuri mumbled to no one as he slid sideways to the floor to attempt to block out this new development. How _embarrassing_ , to fail so horribly and then be caught skating the winner’s program! What would people think!

His door flew open. ‘What’s with that video?!’ Minako hollered. ‘It’s being retweeted everywhere!’

She must have come all the way from home, at eight o’clock at night, to ask Yuri questions he didn’t have answers to. Minako always was dramatic. Yuri ignored her, knowing she wouldn’t stay long and would bombard his sister with questions. He just wanted to be left alone to panic and be mortified in peace.

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Russia was six hours behind Japan, and despite a regular night’s sleep last night Victor was still feeling very much awake. He lay in his room mindlessly scrolling through twitter and Instagram, but he was distracted by his thoughts, the screen often going black from inactivity.

He kept thinking about Yuri. He had been nervous when he had walked to the locker room his first night here. Victor had been feeling emotional after seeing Yuri skate his program; he felt a desire greater than ever to know Yuri, to be with him, and a hope that Yuri was open to knowing him. If Yuri loved like he skated that program, Victor _wanted_ it, he wanted it so much. He knew he couldn’t be easy for Yuri to have as a soulmate – famous, someone who had yearned for his soulmate for so long, must be difficult for someone anxious and who didn’t want to meet his soulmate – but the patience and understanding that Yuri skated with made Victor hope that Yuri would be willing to give him that connection he had so long desired. But he had also felt fear, and Yuri hadn’t been comfortable when he saw him. _Please don’t send me away._ He had pleaded. _Not after that skate, please don’t send me away._

Yuri hadn’t. In fact, he had noticed Victor’s emotional state and had offered a hug, even though he himself was nervous. Victor had instantly felt better when Yuri’s arms wrapped around him, and his poor little heart relaxed.

Yuri was considerate, offering to help with the phone call in a different language. He was sensitive to Victor’s feelings too, even though Victor didn’t think he needed to apologize for skating his program; it was comforting to know that Yuri was aware of the impact it had on Victor, even though his interpretation of why was wrong. Victor had loved spending time with him, and couldn’t wait till tomorrow to spend more. He grinned as he thought of his glimpse at what Yuri was like when he was excited, openly awed at Yuri Plisetsky’s talent, no matter how big a jerk the kid had been.

He woke up his phone for the fourth time, and found a video recommended to him. He clicked it. And smiled wide. It was Yuri skating his free program. It was apparent in the video that Yuri had no idea he was being filmed; little voices could occasionally be heard whispering and shushing, and Yuri seemed oblivious to the camera. Victor watched it before saving it to his phone, glad that he could keep that moment forever, even though he was just a little bit disappointed that other people would get to see it, because for him it was so personal. He watched it again before sending it to Yakov. Then, considering it his duty to let the world see just how talented Yuri was, posted the video to his own twitter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The description of Victor's porcelain skin is not exaggerated. My first year of college I had a class with someone with porcelain skin, and it really did seem to glow. It was beautiful. Victor's physique is based off a dancer I know; it really is a fantastic form for a dancer to have.
> 
> If anyone has gone back and read the former chapters and noticed some changes, it is because I keep updating things to make it better from time to time. If I waited until I was sure it was perfect, it would take months to post anything.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last full chapter in Hasetsu!

The next morning, as soon as he was ready, Victor asked Hiroko if Yuri had left for the rink yet.

‘Oh, he is still in his room,’ she answered with a big smile. ‘A video of him skating went viral last night, and he is hiding. You should go get him; he will stay in there all day otherwise.’

Victor stored away that little glimpse into Yuri’s personality; Yuri hid when he was mortified. He remembered Yuri hiding behind his tea cup, and smiled to himself.

Yuri had turned off his phone so he wouldn’t get calls and had no plans to leave his room. This morning he had checked social media, dreading to know what others said about his video and yet unable to stop his curiosity. Phichit had posted it to his twitter, of course, with the caption “Amazing! Better see you at the GPF, Yuri!”. And to Yuri’s horror, Victor had posted it with the caption “Wow! Beautiful interpretation!”. As flattering as that was, Yuri was embarrassed.

He was lying on his bed thinking about how long this whole mortifying situation would last and if it were at all possible to go get food without anyone noticing when he heard a knock.

‘Yuri? May I come in?’ called Victor’s voice.

Yuri unburied himself from the covers and opened the door part way. Victor stood there in grey work-out clothes, and his beautiful fragrance hit Yuri’s nose.

‘Good morning,’ greeted Yuri as if he hadn’t been hiding.

‘Good morning. When are you practicing today?’ Victor asked.

‘I wasn’t going to,’ Yuri answered.

‘You should,’ Victor started, and then looked over his head and peered in at Yuri’s room, and Yuri suddenly remembered he had posters of Victor Nikiforov tacked all over the walls. His eyes widened in panic and he slammed the door in Victor’s face.

‘I’ll be right out! We can practice! Just give me a minute!’ Yuri shouted frantically as he leaned against the door to ensure its fastness. He locked the door and scrambled to jump into his work-out clothes.

Victor stood there dumbfounded. There was something Yuri clearly didn’t want him to see. He thought he saw something familiar on the wall, but he didn’t get a good enough look.

Victor was composed by the time Yuri came out, opening his door as little as necessary and sliding out.

‘Ok. What do you want to do?’ he asked, marching away from his room. Victor followed.

‘I was thinking aerobic exercise and strength training this morning, and a little rink time this afternoon. Does that sound ok?’ Victor told him. He chose the aerobic exercise because Yuri needed to slim down, but he would do it with him.

‘Yes. There is a long staircase near a park, I work out there a lot,’ Yuri answered. His pace was brisk, but Victor’s legs were long and he easily kept up with him.

‘Excellent! Let’s run there,’ Victor replied.

‘Run there too?’ Yuri balked at the idea.

‘Yes,’ Victor answered mercilessly.

Yuri resigned himself to a very difficult workout. ‘Ok.’

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Victor was merciless in his workout. It was fast-paced with few stops, pushing them both until Yuri thought he would collapse into a panting heap of sweat. Finally they were cooling down, standing on benches at the lookout at the top of the stairs and jumping and landing on one leg, improving strength and balance.

‘Ok. That’s enough,’ Victor said, and Yuri gratefully collapsed onto the bench. With a workout like this he would be back to his athlete’s weight in no time.

Victor enjoyed the view. They could see out over the town here, and the ocean sparkled in the late morning sun. He turned around to see what was behind them, and saw a Japanese castle peeking above the trees.

‘Yuri, what is that castle?’ he asked.

Yuri followed his gaze. ‘That’s Hasetsu Castle,’ he answered. ‘The castle part is a façade, but inside is a ninja house.’

‘Really? Ninjas?’ asked Victor.

Yuri grinned a little at his excitement. ‘Yes. We can go see it, if you like,’ he offered.

‘Yes,’ answered Victor immediately. Ninjas were, quite frankly, awesome and mysterious.

They went to the castle, and though tours weren’t offered that day they were allowed to take pictures. Yuri refused to be in any picture, considering what a sweaty mess he was. Victor still looked great, but then again he always did.

Victor wanted a picture with himself in it after he had grilled the security guard for all the information he knew about the ninja house, and Yuri took the picture as Victor posed, winking and holding up two fingers in a “v”.

‘Who’s that good-looking foreigner?’ Yuri heard the security guard say. Victor couldn’t understand him because he spoke in Japanese. Yuri felt a little embarrassed, though he wasn’t sure why.

Victor came over to inspect his picture, and they left. Yuri didn’t know that Victor, in his excitement, posted the picture to his twitter, hashtag “ninja”.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

They went home and grabbed their skate bags and headed to the rink. Yuri practiced anything that came to mind with no real agenda, but Victor was doing moves, and Yuri could tell they were part of a routine. Victor was finishing his short programs, perfecting motions and adding moves. He looked beautiful gliding across the ice, concentrating and thinking, his slender form turning sharply and his hair moving in the self-created wind. He was so talented. Yuri often stopped to watch him, and Victor didn’t notice.

Yuri had noticed it yesterday: they had gotten used to each other’s fragrances. The first scent of the day was strong, though not as strong as a gap of months or years, but since they had spent continuous time in each other’s company the fragrance faded to a background scent very quickly. Yuri could catch Victor’s fragrance whenever he came close again, but it was no longer overpowering.

After they were done, Victor asked Yuri if he would walk on the beach with him on the way home. The weather was pleasantly chilly, and Victor went without his jacket, though Yuri needed his grey sweatshirt.

They walked for a bit at a leisurely pace before Victor spoke. ‘Yuri, I want to talk about your skating.’

Yuri tensed. ‘About the video?’ he asked to clarify. His voice was a little tense, but he couldn’t get it to relax; it was a manifestation of anxiety.

‘Yes. Your skating is beautiful. You move with a delicate, purposeful grace. Those step sequences are difficult, and you made them look easy. You landed all the jumps too, and most of them were excellent. I knew you were talented, but you surpassed my initial estimation.’ Victor purposefully talked about the technical components to keep Yuri comfortable.

‘I downgraded all the quads,’ Yuri protested.

‘That doesn’t matter. You can learn those. You are already good. Amazing, actually. My favourite was your triple axel; even I can’t land it that well consistently. And your emotion… it was— what’s the word… gorgeous. I’ve never seen anyone who can portray emotion as you do. In that area you are every bit as good as I.’

Yuri’s head was down and his ears and cheeks were crimson, but he had a pleased smile on his face. ‘I had always hoped Victor Nikiforov would like my skating,’ he admitted quietly.

Victor smiled and warmed inside, and remembered that Yuri was a fan. It was easy to forget, when they connected so well. Even though Victor didn’t know much about Yuri, he felt like he knew him in a fundamental way, and he did; they were soulmates after all.

‘I hope you’ll keep skating, Yuri, whatever you decide,’ he replied. Victor’s tone left the decision to Yuri and didn’t blame him for one choice or the other.

Yuri looked up. Now was a good time to tell. ‘I need to tell you,’ he began, ‘I made my decision. I am going to come to St. Petersburg to train under Yakov Feltsman.’

Yuri didn’t tell him that he felt comfortable enough with Victor to train at the same rink. Yuri wanted to get to know Victor more too; ever since he had gotten to be with Victor in person again, he liked him more and more. Yuri felt a connection with him that he hadn’t had before. He was by no means falling in love, but if Victor really were as good a man as he seemed to be, then Yuri wanted to get to know him better. He had never met someone quite like Victor – so far. Yuri was still plenty uncomfortable with his soulmate, but he could take this step.

It took all of Victor’s experience in front of the cameras to control the brilliant smile that threatened to spread across his face. He succeeded, and kept it normal and polite. ‘I’m glad,’ he said.

‘Would, would you help me call Yakov? Please?’

How could Victor say no to that sweet request? ‘Of course, Yuri. His practice ends at two, so we can call him after. That’s the best time. He doesn’t like practice being interrupted.’

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Since the time difference between St. Petersburg, Russia and Japan was six hours, they had lots of time to while away. They spent time in the onsen again – Victor closed his eyes so Yuri could get in – just resting. Yuri seemed very tired after their workout, and spent most of his time leaning against the pool wall with his eyes closed, secretly enjoying Victor’s beautiful fragrance as he drowsed. Victor spent his time watching his sweet, sleepy face.

They didn’t stay in the baths long. Yuri talked with his parents about his decision, and his mother was close to tears at the thought of her son leaving again, even though she was happy. Yuri was not happy to see his mother’s tears, but Mari remedied that by saying that he could get Minako the numbers of hot Russian skaters now. Yuri was not amused.

Later, Victor found Yuri sitting in front of a small shrine, one built for memory instead of worship. On the shelf was a picture of a small dog, with a much younger Yuri.

‘Is this your dog?’ asked Victor as he sat down next to him.

‘Yes,’ Yuri answered, ‘this is Vicchan.’

Victor blinked. He spoke, sounding a little confused. ‘I think your mother has called me that a few times.’

‘Yes,’ Yuri replied, getting a little tense. ‘It’s the little form of the name Victor. The affectionate one.’

‘So—’

‘I named my dog after you,’ Yuri blurted to get it over with as his ears turned pink. Victor turned and gave him an amused closed-mouth smile.

‘I was thirteen!’ Yuri defended, though was unable to fully meet his eyes. ‘And a fan.’

Victor gave a little laugh. ‘That’s ok,’ he said.

There was a short pause. ‘I don’t know if he knew his real name was Victor,’ Yuri continued, still looking at the picture. ‘I called him Vicchan almost exclusively. We all did.’

‘He is very cute.’

‘Yeah. He was a good dog,’ Yuri said fondly. He started to reminisce. ‘I had always wanted a dog, and then when I saw that— that you had one in a magazine, I wanted a poodle too. My coach at the time told my parents a dog would be good for my anxiety, so they let me get one.’

Victor listened. He was finally getting a look into Yuri’s life, and not just the one that surrounded him.

Yuri continued. ‘He always slept with me. And barked at my alarm clock in the morning. He loved to snuggle, and was always happy to see me after practice, like I had been gone for a week instead of hours. He loved the water too. One time he got into the baths when he was a puppy and I had to get him out. It was gross and— wait, there’s a picture.’ Yuri got up off the floor and moved to the door. ‘I’ll be right back.’

Victor mourned the temporary loss of his fragrance. He really did love it. He did not love that not smelling it meant that Yuri was gone; it brought back the aching loneliness. When he caught it again, he turned around, and Yuri entered the room flipping through a photo album. He sat down next to Victor.

‘Here it is,’ he said once he found what he was looking for. He held the album so Victor could see, and the Russian followed his finger. The photo showed two wet and bedraggled creatures, one supremely annoyed and the one being held looking entirely unrepentant.

Victor smiled in amusement. ‘You’re fully dressed,’ he noted.

‘Yeah. Mom wanted him out as soon as possible. We still had to shut down and clean the baths though. Vicchan was very naughty; he knew I couldn’t get him if he stayed where there was no walkway, so I had to get in and chase him around the bath. Mari thought it was hilarious. That’s her laughing.’ He pointed to the edge of the picture, where a sliver of a person could be seen, apparently bent over the knees with laughter.

‘Being wet with warm water in clothes is gross. I couldn’t stay mad for long though,’ Yuri finished with a small smile as he touched the wet Vicchan in the photo; he seemed to start to close up once he realized just how much he said, so Victor spoke, adding his own stories to let Yuri know it was ok to talk about his life; besides, Victor wanted Yuri to know about his life.

‘Makkachin loves the water,’ he said. ‘Sometimes I take her down to the beach and she will run right into the waves; no matter the temperature, she at least gets her paws wet.’

‘Vicchan loved the beach too. He always ran in. Then he would run through the sand and get messy.’

Victor flipped the page and pointed to a picture of a tiny Yuri and a young girl. ‘Who is this?’

‘That’s Yuko,’ said Yuri. ‘I had a skate recital that day.’

They continued to flip through the album, Yuri giving tidbits of information about some of the pictures. When Victor flipped to the front of the album, he came upon the cutest picture yet. It was a young Yuri asleep on a big bed with Vicchan. Vicchan was a puppy and was pressed close to Yuri’s chest, flopped over on his back with his tongue poking out a little. Yuri was curled around Vicchan, his arms curled to his chest and his glasses askew from the pillow. He looked small and soft.

‘When was this taken?’ Victor asked.

‘A few months after I got Vicchan,’ Yuri answered.

‘You’re thirteen here?’ Victor asked with surprise.

‘Yes. I was very little.’

He was. Even for an Asian, Yuri had been a very small child. Victor would have said he was eight. He was adorable back then too, when his baby fat had yet to leave his cheeks. Minako had been right.

They shared stories for a while, and Victor told the story of how on his eighteenth birthday Makkachin licked the frosting off one side of his birthday cake and how angry Lilia was.

‘You had your birthday with your coach and his wife?’ Yuri asked.

‘Yes,’ answered Victor. ‘I lived with them at the time.’

‘How did you meet Yakov?’ Yuri inquired.

Victor smiled at the memory. ‘I had just turned seven. My mama took me to Moskovsky Victory Park – an outdoor skating rink. Yakov was there, doing jumps and step sequences. He had been retired for a while then, but he was still fit enough to perform some moves. I saw him and started showing off. Whenever he performed something I would say “I can do that too!” and copy him. I thought I was very cool. Looking back, I think he started testing what I could do, as his moves got progressively harder. But back then I thought that I was winning against an adult.’ Victor huffed fondly at the memory and he smiled. ‘Oh, the confidence of a child,’ he murmured. Yuri smiled a little. ‘He talked to my mama while I skated. I was called over and formally introduced, and within two weeks Yakov was my new coach.’

They were quiet a short moment before Yuri spoke. ‘That’s a good story. It’s like you were discovered.’

‘Mm, I had a coach teaching me professionally before Yakov, but Yakov made better progress. I can be quite stubborn,’ Victor admitted, ‘and none of my other coaches were very effective at curbing that. Yakov was. I’m sure he doesn’t think so, but he has had better success at getting me to listen than all my previous coaches. I remember he would threaten to send me home early when I was very bad, and one time he did. He called my mama halfway through practice and had her come get me. I was in a lot of trouble for that. I listened much better after that, and I’ve respected him since.’

Victor looked over at Yuri and found him with a cheeky grin on his face. ‘What?’ he asked.

‘Oh – it’s funny to imagine the great Victor Nikiforov being so stubborn his coach sends him home,’ Yuri answered, looking a little shy by the end.

Victor huffed good-naturedly. ‘You’ll see plenty of that when you come to St. Petersburg,’ he said.

‘He still threatens to send you home?’ Yuri exclaimed in shock.

‘No,’ Victor rushed to say. ‘There’s too much at stake now for that. But I am still stubborn and it still drives him crazy.’

They talked a little more about coaches and skating before Mari came and called them for dinner. It was back to diet food for Yuri, and he couldn’t confess himself entirely pleased, but he knew it would help him lose his extra weight faster. Victor was a bit of a bottomless pit, and from his carefree manner about how much he ate, Yuri surmised that he was one of those lucky people who no matter how much they eat, they never gain weight.

_Must be nice,_ Yuri thought wryly as he picked at some of his vegetables.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Yuri was nervous. As eight o’clock drew near, he started pacing around the living room, planning out what he was going to say over and over again to be as prepared as possible. Yakov was intimidating on the television screen, how much more so over the phone. What if his accent was too thick and Yuri couldn’t understand him? He was understandable on television, but he would hardly use his interview voice in casual conversation, right? What if he couldn’t understand Yuri and asked him to repeat things over and over until he was so frustrated that he yelled? Yuri didn’t like being yelled at; it made him feel small, and he knew Yakov was a yeller, though Victor assured him that he only yelled when they deserved it, but Yuri couldn’t help but imagine every possible mishap. He glanced at the clock again, before sitting down and bouncing his leg nervously.

Victor noticed. He was hard-pressed to keep his attention on the e-mail he was writing when Yuri was clearly so nervous. But he couldn’t think of anything to do really; he had assured Yuri in every way he knew how; dealing with nerves was not his thing.

Yuri sat up straight. ‘It’s eight o’clock,’ he said, eyes on the clock.

Victor glanced at his computer clock, then up at Yuri. ‘Let’s give him fifteen minutes to send everybody home,’ he replied.

More waiting time!? It was hard enough waiting till eight! Yuri started bouncing again.

As soon as the clock struck eight fifteen, Yuri was next to Victor waiting for him to dial. They were standing now, and no one else was in the room, leaving it peaceful and as stress-free as possible. Victor dialed the number, and waited for the pick-up.

When he answered, Victor spoke in Russian, which threw Yuri for a loop and for a split second he irrationally worried that Yakov didn’t speak English. He heard Victor say his name, and he didn’t realize he was watching the Russian skater intently. Victor soon handed him the phone with an encouraging smile, and Yuri took it.

‘Hello,’ he greeted. ‘This is Yuri Katsuki.’ His voice was steady and polite, no nervousness showing. He stood stiff and straight, as though courage were something that could be physically held within his being. His profile was towards Victor.

Victor paid attention to every little detail of Yuri. He was seeing how Yuri’s personality worked in a new situation. He could see nervousness defining every line of Yuri’s body, and his determination to not let it show in his voice or stop him.

‘Good,’ answered a gruff voice. ‘I’m Yakov Feltsman.’ His accent wasn’t too thick after all; it sounded just like it did in interviews. Yuri had worried for nothing, but then he often did.

‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,’ Yuri replied. ‘I— Victor told me about your offer. I am very honored that you are willing to coach me and I would like to accept.’

‘Good. What is your e-mail address?’

‘What? Oh.’ Yuri told it to him.

‘Ok,’ Yakov answered as soon as Yuri heard the pencil stop scratching. ‘I will send you your student forms and contract and the visa form you will need when I get home. If you have any questions, call. What is your phone number?’

Yuri told him, and then scrambled to enter Yakov’s into his phone when the Russian coach gave him his number.

‘Ok,’ said Yuri when the new contact was saved. ‘Thank you, Mr. Feltsman.’

‘Call me Yakov. See you in a week, Yuri.’

‘Goodbye.’ The call ended.

Yuri hung up the phone and visibly relaxed, the tension falling from his shoulders. He turned and handed Victor back his phone. Victor smiled at him, and Yuri smiled a little back.

‘Thank you,’ he said sincerely.

‘You’re welcome, Yuri. What did he say?’ Victor replied.

‘He said he would e-mail all the forms I’ll need when he gets home.’ There was a very short pause. ‘He said, “see you in a week”. Does he really expect me there in a week?’

‘Yes, he must,’ Victor answered. ‘Yakov is the type of person who likes to get things done quickly. And his contract is easy to understand. You should have no problem making it on time.’

‘I need to start packing,’ Yuri said, more to himself than to Victor. He was silent a moment. Victor silently watched Yuri process everything. ‘When do you think he’ll send me my forms?’ he asked.

Victor thought a moment. ‘Probably within the hour,’ he replied.

Yuri gave a short nod, and watched his mental list of things he had to do grow for a moment. He turned towards Victor. ‘Thanks for helping me with the call,’ he said again.

‘You’re welcome. If you need help understanding any of the forms, you can come ask me,’ Victor responded.

‘Thanks,’ said Yuri. ‘I’m going to go start packing.’

‘Ok,’ said the Russian skater.

Yuri left the room. It was a rather awkward parting, but Yuri had never been particularly good at social farewells.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The two skaters left early the next morning for practice, running to the park where even more aerobic exercise awaited them. They were lucky. As soon as Hiroko opened the onsen for the day, she was met with a wall of reporters and townspeople stampeding towards the doors and hollering in Japanese.

‘Is it true that Victor is here?!’

‘Comment please!’

‘Can we share a bath with him?’

They all rushed to the front desk.

‘It’s been a long time since we’ve had so many customers!’ Hiroko gushed happily in her native language. Mari had the more proper reaction, standing there in open-mouthed horror as she fought to keep her freak-out contained within.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

When the two skaters finished working out, they headed to the rink. As they neared the stairs they could see a crowd of people inside, but before they could investigate Yuri was stopped by someone he knew on his way up the stairs. Victor went on ahead, curiosity drawing him to the top, and once there he recognized the mess behind the glass doors: reporters and fans. He wondered how they knew he was here before he remembered the post he made yesterday about the ninja house. Oops.

_At least Yuri has already made his decision,_ he thought as he opened the doors.

Immediately he was met with attention in varying degrees of mastered English.

‘Victor!’

‘Oh my gosh! He’s super hot!’

‘He’s really good-looking!’

‘Can I have a photo with you?’

‘What are you doing in Hasetsu?’

‘Have you quit skating?’

It was almost too much to take in, and he caught only every other word, but Victor had lots of practice dealing with this sort of crowd. He flashed them a small smile and a cute look before making his way to the back with a wave. He felt bad for the Nishigoris; it was clear they had never dealt with this before, as they were standing dumbfounded behind the desk.

Yuri walked in and stared. What were all these people doing here? Then he saw a camera and knew they must be here for Victor. They largely ignored him, clamoring at the poor Nishigoris, and he slipped into the back with moderate ease.

‘What are they all doing here?’ he asked Victor, who was reaching for his toes in a stretch. His fragrance was no longer overwhelming, but it still met him with moderate strength when he entered the room.

Victor looked guilty. ‘I posted my ninja picture on twitter,’ he confessed.

‘Oh. That explains it.’ Yuri sat down on the floor to stretch. ‘They want to know why you’re in Hasetsu.’

Victor felt guilty. ‘I’m sorry, Yuri,’ he apologized. ‘I wasn’t thinking when I posted it. It must be a terrible nuisance to all of you.’

‘Oh, don’t worry about it,’ Yuri said as he leaned over one leg, arm over his head. ‘It’s not a big deal. Maybe people will actually start skating again for a while.’

Victor looked up at him. He hadn’t expected Yuri to be so easy about it.

Yuri noticed his look. ‘What?’ he asked.

Victor switched his stretch. ‘Nishigori said you wouldn’t want so many people at your rink.’ He wondered how Yuri would react to his friends protecting him.

‘Well, I don’t really mind the fans,’ Yuri responded. ‘I mean I’d rather practice without anyone else here but they usually sign up for lessons, ask for pictures, then leave. It’s the reporters I don’t like. They’re too nosy.’

Victor nodded. ‘Have you posted about your decision to move?’ he asked.

‘No. Should I?’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It will answer several questions and get most reporters off your back. And—’ he looked back at the door to make sure no one was there. ‘—I can’t say why I’m here until you publicly announce your decision. You don’t want people making guesses.’ He looked Yuri in the eye to make sure he understood the implication. Yuri’s lips parted a fraction and he nodded. No one made more baseless assumptions than reporters; unfortunately, they had the most influence on the public and the largest audience.

‘What should I say?’ Yuri asked.

Victor stood from his stretch. ‘Would you like help?’ he offered.

‘Yes please,’ Yuri said as he stood. Victor’s heart melted a little at such sweetness.

Yuri got his phone out of his bag and sat on the bench next to Victor while they figured out what to write. They finally succeeded:

“Victor Nikiforov came to deliver a message to me: Yakov Feltsman wants to coach me in Russia, and I accepted! See you at the Grand Prix. Bon voyage! #YuriinRussia”

Victor posted one of his own: “Couldn’t resist surprising him in person. Can’t wait to introduce my new rink mate to St. Petersburg! Welcome, Yuri! #KatsukiYuri #YuriinRussia”

Both posts had hundreds of likes and comments by the time the boys headed home.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

As soon as they walked in the door they were met by Mari.

‘There you are!’ she practically hissed in her effort to keep quiet. ‘Hurry up, they’re still in the baths.’ She firmly beckoned them to follow her. Surprised, they followed without complaint.

‘Who’s in the bath?’ Yuri asked.

‘Victor’s crazy fans. Did you know that one of the women asked if she could bathe with him?’ Mari was disgusted. Victor’s eyebrows rose a little.

Yuri’s mouth flattened into a line. Here was yet another person who viewed others through a lens of sexual intent. Sometimes Yuri forgot that people thought that way. It made him sad, and uncomfortable; Victor was _right there_. He didn’t seem too bothered though; he probably got that a lot.

‘I’m sorry my fans are bothering you,’ Victor told Mari sincerely.

‘Don’t be too sorry. It’s the most business we’ve had in months. If they are going to pester us at least we get paid for it.’ She smirked at him as she turned and opened a door, and Victor smiled back cheekily.

The door led into another room similar to the front room, with a table and cushions, but smaller.

‘Don’t come out unless you want to be swarmed, Yuri,’ Mari warned her brother before leaving without further ceremony. The door shut and Victor and Yuri stared at it.

Victor turned around. ‘What room is this?’ he asked.

‘This is our private room,’ Yuri answered. ‘You don’t have to listen to my sister; we can make it to our rooms without being seen— well you might not. But if you hurry you can.’

Victor felt a little downhearted at the prospect. ‘I’d rather spend time with you, if you don’t mind.’

‘Oh, ok,’ said Yuri, feeling a little nervous as he always did when Victor said he wanted to spend time with him. Yuri didn’t mind spending time with Victor, he actually liked it, but he had been around people all day and was looking forward to spending time alone. But he couldn’t say “no”; he was too shy, and it was hard when Victor’s blue eyes spoke volumes about how much he wanted to be with Yuri. This didn’t mean that they would have to talk though.

‘I’m going to get my laptop,’ he told the skater.

Victor nodded. ‘I will too.’ They sneaked out the door and went their separate ways.

Victor understood why Yuri’s family and friends all protected him. There was just something about Yuri that made a person want to protect him, no matter how capable he was of handling himself. Maybe it was because he was soft and sweet and innocent, not to mention adorable. Victor wanted to protect Yuri. He had felt it the minute he had seen him at the Grand Prix on the television backstage. It was clear that nerves were wracking the Japanese skater when he took his place for his short program, and Victor had wanted to keep him safe and comforted, though it was only something he realized later.

Yuri’s fans were huge proponents of protecting him. As soon as Victor had returned to the hotel the day they met at the tea house he had researched everything he could about Katsuki Yuri. He had found every video and interview he could, though unfortunately the interviews were almost exclusively in Japanese. Yuri’s fanbase had a page dedicated to him, _Katsuki Yuri: Official Fanbase_ , and were most helpful in providing videos and pictures, and the whole site was in both English and Japanese. They had an unofficial slogan too: Protect Yuri at all costs. It came up in many of the posts and comments, and had made Victor smile. Not everything in the comments was innocent, but it was more innocent than not, very different from whenever he posted something. Victor had once gone onto his official fanbase, only to decide “never again”.

Back in the room, Victor and Yuri settled down at the low table and hopped on their laptops. Yuri continued applying for that pesky visa, and Victor continued a task he had started yesterday.

‘Yuri,’ he said after a while. ‘I’ve been looking into that flat for you, and the owner is willing to give you a skype tour if you are interested.’

Yuri’s brows furrowed a little in confusion. ‘A skype tour?’ he asked. ‘How?’

‘He would walk the computer through the flat so you could see it. If you liked it, he would e-mail you the application,’ Victor explained.

‘Ok, that sounds great,’ Yuri replied, shifting on his cushion. ‘He doesn’t speak English, you said? Would you help?’

‘Yes,’ Victor answered. He was secretly thrilled to be involved in a part of Yuri’s life. ‘I would be there to translate.’

‘Good,’ Yuri said.

Victor smiled a closed-mouth smile to himself. ‘Would four o’clock tomorrow work?’ he inquired. ‘That would be ten in Russia.’

‘Yeah, that works,’ Yuri said. ‘I have nothing else to do but pack in the afternoon.’

‘Perfect. I’ll tell him,’ said Victor, and he sent the reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Young Yuri and Vicchan: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/95/12/cd/9512cdeed61b77da2ad0f3686061bb46.jpg (new link!)
> 
> So. It seems that not many people are enjoying this story. I wrote it because I wanted to read it, and so if people aren't enjoying it I might take it down. It will be up for a while; I haven't decided yet. I posted it because I wanted fellow aces to have a long story with an asexual main love interest in which the entire story didn't revolve around the confession. And, I admit it, I also wanted to be appreciated (*looks down*). This story actually has many personal elements in it, and if no one is enjoying it I would just as soon take it down.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers. Thank you so very much for your wonderful comments on the last chapter! It was good to know that people are still interested. I don't mean to be rude by not responding, but I choose not to to avoid putting pressure on myself.
> 
> These upcoming chapters have been giving me a hard time and making writing not fun, which is partly why this is so late. I like this one though; I think it's ready.
> 
> A note on the text: usually, translations of foreign phrases/words are at the bottom of the page with a convenient footnote. Unfortunately, the internet does not have a real bottom of the page, so I improvised: I put translations in italicized brackets at the end of the paragraph. That is my bottom of the page.

**Chapter 7**

The week seemed to fly by. Between skating and exercising and packing, Yuri had plenty to do, and for Victor time with his soulmate seemed to evaporate away. The skype tour went smoothly with Victor translating the manager’s remarks and Yuri’s questions; Victor found himself immensely glad that Yuri didn’t speak Russian when the manager mentioned that Victor was holding the flat. It was an embarrassing moment, though Victor thought he covered it up quite well; all those years of handling the media paid off, though he was lucky he didn’t easily blush. Yuri wanted the apartment and the manager sent him the application, which to Victor’s great pleasure required him to hover at Yuri’s elbow and translate the foreign words.

On his fifth day there, Victor found himself talking to Hiroko over a cup of tea in the mid afternoon while Yuri was at the ballet studio. She was telling him about their Tokyo trip to see him in the Grand Prix for Yuri’s seventeenth birthday. She was clearly enjoying the reminiscence, and her listener was very interested. Victor was leaning on the table, chin propped in one hand, a wide smile on his face and eagerness in his eyes, all his body language forward and engaged.

‘He was so excited.’ Hiroko spoke with animation. ‘He was – what is the English word, little jumps—’ she fluttered her hand up and down to express the word.

‘Bouncing?’ Victor offered.

‘Yes, he was bouncing more than walking,’ Hiroko continued. ‘I paid for the whole seat, you know, but Yuri only sat on the edge. He enjoyed himself very much. He was fully engaged in the skating; he gasped and sighed, and sometimes would speak under his breath or clench his hands. And he never sat still; he wiggled all over. Yuri is very… uh, see-through…’ she looked at Victor for help.

‘Transparent?’

‘Yes, thank you. Yuri is very transparent when he is focused on something and forgets people are watching. He can be very…’ she thought of the word, ‘expressive. I found him more fun to watch than the skaters; no offense,’ she said lightly.

‘None taken,’ Victor assured her with a smile.

Hiroko continued. ‘Everyone was very good, but you were the main reason we were there. You are Yuri’s favourite, you see. He considered it a great honor to see you in person, and I am happy that you did a very good job, and Yuri was very pleased. He keeps talking about a jump you have, something that you always do… oh I can’t say it, it’s a big word.’

‘A quadruple flip?’

‘Yes! That’s it. It doesn’t matter how many times Yuri tells me, I just can’t say it.’ Hiroko flicked her hands as if to dismiss the troublesome word.

Victor chuckled.

‘So you did your jump, at the Grand Prix, and Yuri was happy. He talked about his present for days, and we had no peace from skating for a week,’ she finished happily. Victor laughed aloud.

The fragrance of honeysuckle and rain caressed Victor’s nose, and his head turned towards the doorway almost automatically. Yuri came to the doorway moments later, clearly having heard him laughing.

‘What are you talking about?’ he inquired, somewhere between curious and suspicious.

‘You of course,’ answered his mother shamelessly. ‘All about Tokyo. You were very excited, and now here he is!’ She gestured to Victor.

Yuri’s eyes widened and his mouth formed a thin line, absolutely embarrassed. He looked at Victor out of the corner of his eyes, and Victor smiled fondly at him. Yuri promptly disappeared.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Victor’s stay ended up a little longer than a week because he wanted to fly back with Yuri. Yakov wasn’t happy about it, but Victor didn’t care; he was with his soulmate. However, he assured Yakov that he was practicing and getting lots of exercise. He couldn’t resist asking Yakov what he thought of Yuri’s video, and Yakov said that his skating was excellent but he was highly inconsistent. That was high praise from Yakov, and Victor knew he was very impressed, and Victor was very pleased with his response.

On the second to last day of their stay, they were eating dinner in the private room. Hiroko had wanted to make katsudon to celebrate Yuri’s move, but Yuri had told her no because he still needed to lose weight. Victor was proud of him, but also disappointed because that meant that he didn’t get katsudon either.

After dinner the family and Victor were chatting. The Katsuki family drank sake and Yuri and Victor drank tea, because alcohol was sugar and not good for an athlete in large quantities, and Yuri was trying to lose weight. Victor wasn’t fond of empty chitchat, but he was good at it.

Yuri felt absent from the conversation, half-listening with his gaze focused on the floor. Anxiety caused “a sense of impending doom”, and though it seemed almost laughable at first, to those who experienced it, it made sense and was very much real; it really felt like _something_ was coming to get you. Yuri was wound tense inside and his mind was fixated and running at the same time.

A new country. Again. A language that he didn’t know. Having to break in a new life. He bombed All Japan and the Grand Prix, what if his new rink mates treated him differently because of that? Yuri Plisetsky didn’t like him, he might insult him in front of all his new rink mates and his new coach; Yuri could take an insult in private, but not in public.

Victor. Gosh, what if he ended up disappointed in Yuri? Or alternatively, Victor was his soulmate, what if someone found out? One little mistake is all it would take, and Yuri would find himself in a government wedding (the term for when the government forcibly married soulmates). Yuri didn’t think he could handle being trapped.

_I am fine,_ Yuri told his mind.  _There is no need to be anxious. I am **fine**._ Still, he was running his fingernails up and down his thighs, trying to distract his mind with other stimulation.

Yuri knew most of his fears were a little irrational, but he couldn’t help it. Which led his mind to another thing: what would he do when his anxiety hit at night? He didn’t think it would be safe to go running in such a big city at night; in Detroit he had the campus and in Hasetsu he had the skating rink, but in Saint Petersburg he would have nothing. Yuri figured that he would have to wait out that tense, shaking feeling all alone, and night was always worse.

He couldn’t take it anymore. Yuri got up quietly and left the room without a word.

Eventually Victor wondered why Yuri wasn’t coming back. Hiroko and her husband had just cleared the table, leaving Mari with him.

‘Where’s Yuri?’ he asked her with a tilt of his head.

She picked up glasses and started placing them on a tray. ‘When he’s like this he’ll be at Minako’s place or Ice Castle,’ she told him. ‘It’s what he does.’

Victor was thoughtful for a moment. “ _Like this_ ”? What did that mean? He excused himself and got his coat and shoes. Soon he was at Minako’s snack bar, but she told him Yuri wasn’t there.

‘When she said “my place” she meant my ballet studio,’ she explained. ‘Whenever Yuri gets anxious he wants to practice. I usually go with him. Ice Castle lets him skate any time if it’s not booked already. Yuri was able to grow because he had a place to practice alone whenever he got anxious. He’s no genius, but he was granted more free time than anyone else to practice.’

Victor privately thought that while Yuri may be no genius in choreography, he was plenty gifted in skating in general. He thanked Minako and headed to the rink.

The Nishigoris were there, and would not let him bother Yuri. They did however take him into the office to watch. Yuri was skating in easy, directionless patterns on the ice, still in his jacket and seemingly lost in thought.

‘He has always come here to practice by himself,’ Nishigori informed him with his hands on his hips.

‘It convinced me he loves skating,’ Yuko said, ever cheerful. ‘He didn’t even play with his friends.’

‘Well he was never very good at making them,’ Nishigori interjected with a frown. ‘Skating aside, he is not very good at putting himself out there. I’m glad your coach offered to coach him; I didn’t want this to be the end of him.’

‘Me neither. He actually hates losing,’ Yuko informed him.

Victor took all this in silently. He thought about what Minako and Yuri’s friends told him about Yuri’s anxiety, habits, and introversion, and came to a conclusion. _Yuri will need a safe place to skate,_ he thought, a finger on his lips.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Yuri had all his boxes packed and shipped and his suitcase packed as well. They were leaving late tomorrow night.

Yuri walked towards Victor’s room. He wanted to ask Victor something. Well, he didn’t really want to ask it, but it wouldn’t get done any other way.

_“Victor Nikiforov is always nice to his fans.”_ Minako had scolded him when he had arrived in Hasetsu from Detroit. Yuri hadn’t wanted to shake his fans’ hands then; he was tired, he had been in close quarters with people for two days, and he was burnt out from socializing; he didn’t _want_ to socialize anymore. Yuri didn’t understand why anyone would be his fan anyway; he was a dime-a-dozen skater who had done poorly in his last two major competitions. He thought these people were only supporting him because he was from Hasetsu. Now, Yuri repeated those words to himself and hoped that Victor’s politeness extended to fans he had a personal relationship with. He knocked on Victor’s door.

It opened, revealing Victor with a perky “yes?” expression on his face. When he saw it was Yuri, his expression instantly turned to soft surprise.

‘Oh Yuri,’ he greeted cheerily. Behind him Yuri could see his suitcase open, already mostly filled with slacks and shirts.

‘Hi,’ Yuri started, his fingers fidgeting nervously at his sides. ‘I, um… I have a request, if you don’t mind.’ He clenched his hands and forced himself to keep looking Victor in the face.

Victor crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe, an expectant and curious look on his face.

Yuri screwed up his courage. ‘You know I’m a fan, right?’ Victor nodded, a smile pulling a little at his lips. ‘Well I was hoping that – maybe – you’d be willing to… uhhh,’ his hands were fluttering, ‘— would be willing to sign something for me,’ he finished nervously as his eyes darted away and a light blush spread across his cheeks.

Victor broke out in a smile. ‘Of course,’ he replied.

‘Good – I mean thanks,’ Yuri hastened to amend, still scattered from nervousness. ‘Um.’ He cocked his head to tell Victor to follow him and walked back towards his room. Victor followed, his stockinged feet padding lightly against the onsen floor.

Victor was excited to see Yuri’s room. The bedroom was the one place where a person could express themselves the most; usually people shared the rest of the house, but their room was their own.

Yuri’s room was small and had a single bed and a desk, and was quite frankly unappealing to look at. It was clear that Yuri hadn’t graduated to the decorating stage. Victor could see nothing that Yuri wouldn’t want him to see, but Yuri had probably removed whatever it was.

When Yuri reached his door he quickened his steps to enter ahead of Victor. He hastily grabbed a paper from the desk and held it to his chest, hiding the front from Victor’s view. His shoulders were hunched and his head inclined downward a little as he peered up at Victor from under his bangs, his fingers worrying the edges of his paper.

‘I bought this before I knew, so please don’t be upset,’ he said.

Victor nodded solemnly when he saw how serious Yuri was. The Japanese boy paused a moment, gauging Victor’s sincerity before placing the picture (for that’s what it was) on the desk and fishing a pen out of a cup. He handed the pen to Victor, shyness taking over as he avoided eye contact.

Victor took the pen – which was a gold sharpie –, deliberately touching Yuri’s fingers as he did so. His eyes fell upon the picture as he uncapped the pen. Oh; that’s why Yuri was worried he would be upset. It was an 8x10 poster picture from last season, of him in his _Stay Close To Me_ costume. Victor bent over a little and fiddled with the cap, trying to decide what to write, when Yuri spoke.

‘Does it upset you? You can sign something else. I have paper,’ Yuri offered with franticness tinging his voice as he opened a drawer to rifle for paper. Victor realized he hadn’t given any reaction to let Yuri know it was all right.

‘Oh no. I want to sign this,’ he assured him with a smile. Yuri fell silent, fidgeting as Victor put pen to paper.

The picture was Yuri’s favourite. It was from a photo shoot, so it was a pose absent from the skating routine. The photo was a black and white close-up of Victor, shot from the right with his bangs sweeping down over his left cheek, suggesting a profile shot. One hand rested near his cheek as he cast his eyes down, splaying his long, pale lashes across his cheeks. He wasn’t smiling, the picture speaking of sorrow and loneliness, a perfect representation of his skate in one shot. Victor looked ethereally beautiful in the photo, Yuri thought; his skin looked smooth and his hair looked made of silk, just like in real life.

_To Yuri,_

_My favourite fan_

_Victor Nikiforov_

Victor straightened and capped the pen, pleased with the note. ‘If I got a poster of you, would you sign it for me?’ he asked with a grin, half teasing.

Yuri’s eyes went a little wide. ‘I… I guess so,’ he answered as he took the pen.

‘Good,’ Victor said with a smile, now fully intending to get himself a poster of Yuri. He turned and started to leave.

‘Thanks for signing my poster,’ Yuri said softly, still embarrassed.

Victor smiled and turned around. ‘My pleasure, Yuri,’ he said fondly. And it was. It was his favourite signing he had ever done.

When Victor was safely out of the room, Yuri read the note written in the legendary skater’s smooth, flowing script and smiled shyly in spite of himself. He placed the photo inside a frame hidden in a drawer, then placed it in his suitcase.

 0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The next day was hectic. Yuri and Victor got to the airport for a 10:10 p.m. overnight flight, and the next day only got busier. Yuri was glad Victor was with him to translate and guide once they hit Moscow because Yuri was feeling stressed and would have been lost. But it was the taxi drive from the St. Petersburg airport to the apartment that had Yuri fearing for his life. Victor had warned him, but little could have prepared him for Russian driving. It was madness. Not one speed limit was observed. Yuri and Victor were hanging on to the little handles above the door as they were thrown across the backseat for every pass and turn. When they finally stopped at the apartments Yuri was practically vibrating with adrenalin.

‘The taxi drivers in Sochi were never that bad,’ he said to Victor as soon as he got out.

‘They have to be on their best behavior for international competitions that deal with foreigners,’ Victor explained, and Yuri silently vowed never to hail a taxi in St. Petersburg again. They retrieved their bags from the trunk, and Victor was thinking fondly of seeing Makkachin again.

Yuri looked up and around. ‘Which building is mine?’ he asked.

Victor pointed across the street. ‘That one,’ he said as he finished paying the driver. ‘I’ll walk you over. You’ll need a translator for the landlord.’

‘Thanks,’ said Yuri, still staring at his surroundings. St. Petersburg was huge. Very, very huge. It was five times bigger than Detroit, but it seemed like twelve.

Once inside the building, Victor told Yuri what all the signs in the lobby said before they met the landlord. It didn’t take too long, and the keys, mailbox, and Yuri’s boxes that he had shipped prior were all sorted out. Yuri wanted nothing more than to get into his own apartment and curl up on his bed. He was tired, he was stressed, and he was burnt out from being around people. Unpacking would have to wait an hour.

Yuri’s apartment was nice, well-kept, and looked brand new. The front door opened directly into the living room with a wall running forward along the left. The living room had a brown sofa and two matching chairs, a small bookcase and two end tables, and a large rug in the middle to keep toes warm from the wood floors. The walls were a creamy colour with two very large windows with white sheer curtains and a television in between them. On the other side of the wall that ran forwards next to the door was a small kitchen and dining table. The kitchen had bright yellow walls and a white tiled floor. The cabinets were bright white and the appliances were black. The dining table was set just inside the kitchen and was of a dark wood that matched the living room furniture.

On the far wall of the living room were two doors, one leading to the bedroom and one to the bathroom. The bathroom had a tub with a shower, tile floors, and a stacked washer and dryer. The bedroom was bigger than the one Yuri had at home, with a queen bed, an end table, a desk and chair, wood floors, and another large window with thick blue curtains. Victor told Yuri goodbye at the door, and Yuri nearly faceplanted on the bed to curl up and just be silent for a while.

After a while he felt better and got up to properly admire his new home and start unpacking. It was when Yuri was putting his dishes away that he felt hungry and realized he had absolutely no food. He didn’t even know where the grocery store was. He debated only a minute before he called Victor.

‘ _Allo_ Yuri,’ greeted Victor. _[Informal hello, usually for answering one’s personal phone.]_

‘Hi,’ Yuri said. ‘Victor, I don’t— I realized I have no food. Would… I’m sorry for asking but— would you take me to the grocery store?’

‘Of course, Yuri,’ Victor answered graciously. ‘Of course. Ah— give me twelve minutes, then I’ll come get you.’

Victor arrived wearing a black trench coat and a black scarf, and something about it made his eyes stand out in the prettiest shade of pale blue; Yuri had to confess himself happy that Victor’s eyes were as beautiful in person as they were in a picture. Temperatures would rise quickly now that it was spring, but it was still cold enough to need warm attire. Yuri wore his dark blue coat with a brown scarf, and he had no idea how cute he looked.

The grocery store was, thankfully, not crowded, and Victor helped Yuri find everything on his list. Victor told Yuri the Russian name of everything he bought so he could hear the language, and Yuri did his best to say them back. Yuri planned on cooking most of his meals, as he had cooked for himself all but his first year of college and had been spoiled on homecooked meals growing up. Part way through their shopping trip Yuri started to yawn and blink more slowly. It was late in Japan, and both boys were tired from their overnight flight. Victor made Yuri use some of his survival phrases at the checkout, and then they went home. Yuri was so tired he ate the simplest snack he could and went to bed.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Yuri had only the weekend to settle in before practice on Monday. Victor had invited him running on Friday and Saturday to show him the best and safest routes, but other than that he had been alone. He had called his family to let them know he was settled, and Yuko called to express her excitement for him to meet the skaters and wanted a full report as soon as possible. The first day of practice seemed to take forever to come, and when it did Victor picked him up and since Yuri absolutely refused to hail a cab during one of the busiest times of the day, they ran to the rink, the _Sportivni Klub Chyempionov,_ the Sports Club of Champions, Victor’s ice rink.

The sports club was large, high-end, and built in a Grecian style with pillars supporting the large portico on the main building. Standing in the front, Yuri could see three buildings that made up the sports club, all of them made almost entirely of windows. A wide, shallow staircase led up to the front door, and there were flag poles off to the side in the “yard”. Lampposts and trees dotted the area. The inside revealed a lobby that was modern and sleek, and the athletes had a separate locker room from visitors. Yuri was impressed.

The rink itself was nice, much nicer than the Ice Castle in Hasetsu. Gold sconces dotted the walls and there were three large Russian flags hanging above the doors that featured Russia’s national emblem. The best part was that one wall of the rink was made of windows; it let plenty of sunlight spill in and looked out at a field. A barrier attached to the windows kept people from crashing into the glass. Trees dotted the edge of the field, bare still of flowers.

Yuri handled meeting everyone very well, and even remembered to take off his gloves when shaking hands. Yakov met him when he got there, and though he was gruff he was professional. He was about the same height as Yuri, though the air he possessed and the way he carried himself made him appear much taller: he was broad and stalwart and imposing, and he seemed to be the kind of man who knew exactly what he was doing. His grey hair hung down to the base of his neck, though his receding hairline belied the youth of his hair style.

Yakov wasn’t happy with Yuri’s weight, but was still rather impressed that Yuri and Victor had run all the way to practice. After today Yuri wouldn’t be allowed on the ice until he lost the weight, but he would still come to practice to use the training room and watch the others. Yuri wasn’t exactly happy about that but it was fair; he didn’t have much more to lose anyway.

Yakov gave him a cursory introduction to his new rink mates before telling everyone to warm up. Yakov had ten other skaters besides Victor. Yuri didn’t know them all, some still in juniors and some not having been chosen for international competitions enough times to be remembered; still, he recognized a few: Georgie, who often competed with Victor; Mila, the pretty girl who had a fiery style; and Yuri Plisetsky, the prodigy. The last glared at him with disdain, but Yuri pointedly ignored him, refusing to be intimidated by the punk again. After warm-up, Yakov ran Yuri through his jumps and spins to see his skating up close and in person.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

So far the day had been good. Yuri had been on-time to meet his new coach, his new rink mates seemed friendly, and Victor was giving him enough space to integrate on his own. That being said, Yakov was as thorough a coach as Celestino, and Yuri was ready for the lunch break when it came. He was walking for the bathrooms when a kick at his legs caused him to stumble. He turned around and came face-to-face Yuri Plisetsky. Yuri Plisetsky was a stick of a boy with blond hair that hung in his face, eyes that were hard and green, and an affinity for leopard print.

‘What are you doing here?’ the boy growled at Yuri with his hands stuffed deeply into his jacket pockets.

‘What?’ Yuri was confused; he was just walking to the bathroom.

‘What are you doing in Russia!?’ the other Yuri snapped.

Oh. He was probably insulted that the loser of the Grand Prix was training alongside him. ‘Training under Yakov,’ Yuri answered, taking a small amount of pleasure in being purposefully obtuse.

‘Ha! Do you really think that having the same coach as Victor is going to do you any good?’ the young Russian mocked. ‘As if a guy who sobbed in the toilet stall at the Grand Prix Final can change just by having Yakov as a coach!’ And he sneered at Yuri.

_Why that—_ , Yuri thought, offended. He was again reminded of Yuri Plisetsky’s words in the bathroom three months ago. Yuri may think that he was a dime-a-dozen skater, but he never doubted his ability to improve, and Victor’s praise of his skating and being chosen by Yakov had given him a self-esteem boost. He smirked at the other Yuri.

Plisetsky bristled. ‘Stop smiling, Fatso!’ he hollered. Yuri leaned back in his stance and slid his hands into his jacket pockets, treating Yuri Plisetsky like the bratty kid he was.

_He’s totally underestimating me,_ Yuri thought as Plisetsky continued to shout abuse at him. He smiled indulgently before interrupting him.

‘I don’t really get the whole picture myself, so why don’t you ask Yakov about it? He obviously thought I have enough talent for him to coach me,’ he said blithely. With that, he turned and walked away, leaving the other Yuri to steam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! :) By the way, do the links work on your end?
> 
> Yuri's poster: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/702913454317995205/
> 
> Trench coats and scarves and pretty blue eyes: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/1d/c7/cc/1dc7cc2e47b8294a69837b8d93355f61.png
> 
> Victor's ice rink: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/c7/3d/86/c73d86b687d33f2a394166b8b0476e7a.jpg  
> https://i.pinimg.com/originals/a4/4f/60/a44f60dfb48917e4e44dc2adeba20513.jpg  
> https://i.pinimg.com/originals/a4/60/e5/a460e5a076a4eefaea8d9fd55a2288a8.jpg  
> https://i.pinimg.com/originals/18/7b/17/187b17b0f798b545963e57dd865238a6.jpg  
> https://i.pinimg.com/originals/6e/5e/38/6e5e380975076447272527b810963914.jpg
> 
> I changed the links for the pictures. Let me know if you can see them now.


End file.
